


The Shadowlands

by Chericola



Category: Deltora Quest - Emily Rodda
Genre: Angst, Dark, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 59,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3170060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chericola/pseuds/Chericola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anna and Jarred march towards the Shadowlands and almost certain death, leaving all they have known behind. A story of love and loss, heartbreak and survival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

As she stumbled over the dirt path leading from the Forests of Silence, Anna felt it. It was something she had not expected to feel, not for the Forests which had haunted her dreams since she was a child. But still, she felt it, a numbness, a hole in her heart which sucked everything in until there was nothing left but emptiness.

For all it was worth, for the past seven years the Forests had been home. The dangerous creatures of the forest floor which she had feared as a child had become a promise of safety, protecting her and her family from the Shadow Lord's fearsome Grey Guards. Anna had given birth to her daughter there, and had lived and loved there. It was home.

And now she was leaving. Leaving behind the Forests, leaving behind the illusion of safety it had held until that fateful day the Grey Guards captured them. Leaving behind Jasmine. Anna could have wept at the thought of Jasmine, alone in the Forests, without friend or family to support her. Even now, she could still see her curled amid the cluster of ferns in First Wood, green eyes filled with terror and confusion, waiting for her parents to return to her. But having her here in chains beside her would have been a worse fate than the one she had given her. In the Forests, Jasmine had a chance to live, albeit a slim one. Here, she would not have lasted a moment.

Anna shuddered at the thought, and felt Jarred's arm brush hers, in a silent attempt to reassure her. Anna did not know how she had been able to find such a good man for a husband. He had given up their place at the forge for his childhood friend, King Endon, and his wife the Queen and their unborn child. He had travelled with Anna along the great road that connected Tora and Del, and when the Torans refused them sanctuary, sought refuge with her in the Forests of Silence. For all the hardships they had faced, he had never faltered, never gave up the hope that Deltora would be free one day. And even now, as they marched towards certain death in the Shadowlands, he did not falter, did not give up. His hope and determination filled her heart.

Alright, she thought. If Jarred will not falter now, then neither will I.

Even so, her thoughts flew to Jasmine alone in the Forests of Silence with little chance of survival, and herself and Jarred marching to their deaths in the Shadowlands, and felt a dark terror stir deep inside of her, and her heart clenched painfully in her chest.

oOo

The Grey Guards had finally allowed their prisoners to rest for the night, after the coming of night revealed a moonless sky. Even so, Jarred found it hard to sleep. He tossed and turned upon the grassless dirt, unable to relax, wondering how Jasmine in the Forests and Endon and Sharn and their child in Del were faring.

'Jarred?' Anna's soft voice roused him from a fitful dose.

He opened his eyes. 'Yes, dear heart?'

'I am afraid,' she whispered.

Her admission tore at his heart. He hated to see her like this, green eyes round with terror, hugging the ground underneath her as if it could protect her from the monsters sleeping ten feet from them. Jarred wanted to protect her badly, but there was nothing he could do if the Grey Guards harmed her. It made him frustrated to feel so helpless.

'Do not be afraid, dear heart,' he whispered anyway. 'I will protect you. I swear on my life.'

She looked up at him and the love and trust in her gaze tore at his insides. 'I know you will, Jarred,' she said. 'That is what frightens me.'

She turned her back to him, closing her eyes. Within moments he could hear her breathing in a deep, steady pattern. Jarred was left, wide awake, on the ground, staring up at the sky and hoping her trust in him was not misplaced.

oOo

A routine established itself across the following days. The Grey Guards marched their prisoners along all day, heedless of exhaustion and thirst and hunger, only allowing them to stop when the darkness obscured the pathway before them. Then they were fed lumps of chewy meat and cold broth that slid down their throats like slime. At dawn they were marching again, bleary eyed with exhaustion, not having slept for more than a few hours at a time. Anna's feet ached; Jarred's wrists chafed in their chains. But there was nothing to be done about it. Any complaints from the prisoners would bring the Grey Guards' wrath upon them, flogging their whips at them, telling them to shut it and move faster. And thusly the days went by.

oOo

Gradually, Anna began to recognise herbs, plants, flowers in the midst of the barren wilderness. Herbs for healing, plants for eating. Herbs to alleviate pain. That night, as the Grey Guards lay snoring under a tree a mere ten feet away, she gathered some and applied them to the wounds she and Jarred had sustained during the day. As Anna and Jarred ate the remaining herbs, she felt a sense of peace she had not felt in days. Finally she was doing what she was born to do.

She handed Jarred some leaves. 'You place these under your tongue to alleviate pain,' she explained in response to his questioning gaze.

Jarred gazed at her, astonished, a slow smile gracing his face. 'You are amazing,' he whispered, awed, expression filled with pride and fear. But mainly pride.

Anna's heart warmed to see it.

oOo

It filled Jarred with pride, to see the determination in Anna's eyes, the stubborn tilt of her chin as she marched beside him. She ignored the Grey Guards, their jeers and taunts and laughter, walking just fast enough to prevent from being whipped, and did nothing to attract their attention. Gone was the fear, the trembling, the anxiety he had seen in her in days past. They had faded like ashes in the wind the night Anna had put to use her skills in healing and herbs to help them survive the hard days of walking. Jarred could not have been more proud of her. Anna had found a purpose, a reason to live, and Jarred was glad of it. He knew he would not survive this dangerous journey without her; she was his heart and soul and the very centre of his life. If she died, he would die with her, leaving behind an empty, lifeless husk of a man. Jarred knew this as well as he knew himself. He glanced at his determined, courageous wife and silently reiterated his vow to her. Anna, dear heart, he thought, I would sooner die before I see you harmed. I will protect you. I will!

oOo

In an effort to avoid having to enter the Os-mine Hills (which were almost as deadly as the Forests of Silence in their own way), the Grey Guards chose to skirt close to the edges of the trees that made up Middle Wood, the second of the three woods that were the Forests of Silence. The sight of the rustling leaves and swaying boughs of the trees all at once gave Anna a blessed feeling of relief and an unbearable ache in her heart. To be so close to the Forests, the life they had made for themselves, and Jasmine… Beside her she felt Jarred shudder, and knew that he felt the same.

She bit her lip to stop the tears from falling. She longed so badly to run, run far away, back to the Forests that had become her home. She longed to gather her daughter into her arms and comfort her as she had each time Jasmine skinned her knees while attempting to climb onto a particularly high branch or to make an impossible leap between two boughs in the treetops. She longed for her life to return to the way it had been before the Grey Guards had destroyed it, when it had been herself, Jarred and their daughter living in the tree-house Jarred had created out of fallen branches, leaves and tree bark on the forest floor. She longed for it so much, and yet it was impossible. She couldn't leave Jarred, and couldn't rid herself of her chains or evade the notice of the Grey Guards long enough for her to escape. Even if she did succeed in breaking free, she thought bitterly, the Guards' poisonous blisters would fall on her before she even took three steps, leaving her to die an agonising death and leaving Jarred to be taken to the Shadowlands alone.

Perhaps it was what the Grey Guards were hoping for. Certainly she was not a strong fighter like Jarred, and her small, seemingly fragile stature would be a disadvantage in a fight, as would be her gentle nature as a healer. If she were to die on march, the Grey Guards would not have to risk their master's displeasure at their choice of combatant, and in addition would find pleasure in watching Jarred fall apart. Anna suppressed another shudder at the thought of what her death would do to him, of the insurmountable pain it would cause him. It was unthinkable. It would destroy him, destroy his hope, and that Anna knew she wouldn't be able to bear, knowing the desolation her death would cause.

No, she thought, turning her head away from the tantalising view of the Forests of Silence. She could not let herself think such dangerous thoughts, not now. It was impossible to escape; she and Jarred could only survive as best as they could, and pray that Jasmine did the same.

It was the only thing she could let herself believe without falling to pieces.

oOo

'Do you think that she is still alive?'

Anna's voice sounded as thin as a thread amid the grunts and snores of the Grey Guards. Jarred could not see her, but he could feel her tremble as they lay underneath a moonless sky, huddling together for warmth. The Guards, being impervious the weather themselves, did not deign to find any means of a shelter from it and so Jarred and Anna were left to survive it as best as they could. Even if they had, Jarred thought wryly, they would not have bothered sharing it with their prisoners. Any discomfort they experienced was the highest entertainment to the Guards.

The nights were getting colder. Jarred could feel it in the air as he forced his aching muscles to move so he could face Anna. Soon it would be winter. How would he and Anna fare then, without adequate shelter or clothes to protect them from the biting winds and cool temperatures? Jarred almost shivered to think of it.

'I do not know,' he said to Anna. 'She may be.' He did not want to speak of it, did not want to wonder whether their daughter had survived this long without them. If he did, it would bring images to his mind that he didn't have the strength to bear: of Jasmine's tiny body torn bloody by the creatures that lived on the forest floor, her eyes glazed and sightless; of her starving, freezing and afraid. By the Belt, she was only seven years old! Why was fate so cruel?

He closed his eyes against such images of horror and continued. 'We taught her everything we could. She knows where to forage for food, and where to find water. She knows to stay in the treetops at night and only venture to the forest floor during the day. She knows how to create shelter for herself and protect herself from cold and wind.' He looked reassuringly at Anna, or so he hoped. 'She has a chance, dear heart. You must believe that.' His heart ached at the fear in Anna's eyes, the deep-set terror that echoed his own. 'Please believe it, even if you believe nothing else.'

He felt Anna shake her head. 'She is only seven, Jarred,' she said. 'How can she? And yet, she is better off there than here with us. She would not have survived a moment here.' She shuddered again. 'I wish we could go back. I wish that I knew for certain that Jasmine is safe.'

She lay her head on Jarred's chest, and he drew comfort from the fact that he could still hold her. 'You must have faith, dear heart,' he whispered, as Anna's eyes closed and her breathing slowed into a deep, even pattern. 'It is the only thing left to us.'

oOo

Whether it was the cold or the memory of the conversation with Anna, Jarred did not drift to sleep until well into the night. When he did, his dreams were jumbled and filled with blood. Not his blood, but Anna's and Jasmine's. He watched, unable to do a thing, as Anna dropped to the ground, her skin marred by welts, her mouth in a grimace of agony. Each time a blister hit its mark she screamed his name in a raw, pain-filled voice that shattered him to pieces. And there beside her was their daughter, sobbing in terror and agony as blood oozed from her mauled throat. He could feel a strangled sound choke his throat; it was almost too much to bear.

He awoke to the grey light of dawn, a remembered cry on his lips and an image in his mind. Of Jasmine, perched on a branch in the treetops of First Wood, her hair glinting brown in the golden light of the setting sun. She frowned at the creased drawing in her hand, mouthing words so recently learnt. 'Wake the bear, do not fear...' She looked up at him, dark curls bouncing, eyes alert and curious. 'What does it mean, papa?'

He grinned at her, and said quickly, 'Nothing. Nothing at all. It is just a silly rhyme. I thought you might like it.'

She traced a finger along the faded lines of the roughly drawn castle and he watched as her frown dissolved into a delighted smile. 'It is so pretty!'

Jarred couldn't agree more. The drawing brought back memories of a better time, a time before the Shadow Lord and before their chaotic flight into the Forests of Silence. It was a time he thought of often.

His heart swelling with fondness, he pressed a kiss to Jasmine's forehead. 'Try not to wear it down too much,' he said lightly. 'I would hate for it to fall to pieces after so much use.'

Jasmine giggled. 'Alright. I will not.'

She clambered to her feet, placing the picture into her dress pocket as she did so, and ran along the length of the bough, leaping agilely across to the bough of the adjacent tree. Although he knew that she was in no danger of falling, he still moved to follow her. Even with her short five-year-old legs she was quick, and he did not catch up to her until they were almost at their tree-house home. For a moment she paused, and he swept her up into a hug, laughing as she squealed and wriggled in excitement.

'I love you papa,' Jasmine said, her voice muffled against his chest. Jarred felt his heart swell ridiculously at her words.

'I love you too, sweetheart,' he said to her.

In the light of the dawn, Jarred took heart from the memory, and held it close for all of that day and for all the weeks to come. Through the searing cold, the grunts and chuckles of the Grey Guards and the painful strike of the whip at his ankles, he fastened on to the memory of dark strands of hair glinting brown under a setting sun, and the sleepy voice of his daughter saying that she loved him. It was the only thing he could do, the only thing that was left to him. A quiet memory of happiness.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The march continues into Thaegan's territory. Anna and Jarred cope with their loss, while Anna makes a new friend.

It was as their party was halting to rest for the night that Anna saw the girl. With dark, cropped hair framing a pale face, and an athletic body, she seemed almost unnoticeable as she sat curled in the dirt, eating her share of the measly rations the Guards allowed their prisoners. Anna thought her to be around twelve years in age. In truth, she reminded her a bit of Jasmine, with her lively spirit and innocence that showed in her eyes. Anna imagined that Jasmine would be somewhat like that girl if she ever survived to that age.

Though it had been some weeks, her heart still ached at the loss of her daughter. Jasmine, so young and so vulnerable, quick to laugh and run wild in the treetops. It was agonising to not know her fate, whether she was alive or dead. She tried to keep faith, but it was difficult. Jasmine was only seven years old. How could she survive in the Forests which had haunted Anna as a child?

She kept her gaze on the girl, who had set her brittle piece of bread down and turned away, as if choosing to block out the world. She looked lonely and afraid, and Anna's heart bled for her. It was not easy, to be alone in the world and to know that one was walking ever so closer to death. At least Anna and Jarred had each other. This poor, spirited, innocent girl had no one.

As the weeks had gone by, their party—originally consisting of just herself and Jarred—had grown. Bit by bit, as the Grey Guards drove their prisoners further into dry, muddy territory littered by weeds and thorns, unfortunate strangers became part of the march to the Shadowlands. In a village close to the border of the sorceress Thaegan's territory, a weeping young woman was snatched from the arms of her lover, as payment for a debt unpaid, and now lay curled into herself, staring out at the world with blank, hopeless eyes. A smiling little girl with golden hair had fallen prey to the Guards while skipping across a deserted clearing, a bundle of wild flowers in her hands. They had pounced on her as she moved into the shadow of a tree, and soon the only thing left of her was the carpet of petals that littered the clearing. She had not smiled since.

Then there was the shrunken man who refused to look anyone in the eye. He did not speak at all, not even when the Grey Guards had descended upon him in a grassy clearing the week before. Anna assumed that he was mute, or deeply withdrawn. Perhaps he had horrors in his past that rendered him speechless; Anna did not know for certain. She did not dare ask, for she knew she would not receive an answer. None of the prisoners were overtly friendly to one another—there was no sense in it. When one was marching to sure death, such things became trivial, just another burden on the heart. No person wished to feel loss at another's death.

Until now, Anna had felt the same. It was hard enough to know that she and Jarred would die, one after the other, and that one of them would live on, however briefly, without the other. She could not imagine herself willingly befriending another hapless prisoner just to have her heart bruised even more when they were killed in battle in the Shadowlands. It was unthinkable. But upon seeing the girl, all such thoughts flew from Anna's mind. That girl could have been Jasmine, she thought numbly. If Anna had not managed to warn her daughter away at the last moment, it would have been.

Anna suppressed a shudder at the thought.

She could not guide and protect her daughter any longer, but she could help this girl. It did not matter that they would all be dead within months of arriving in the Shadowlands. This girl needed love and friendship in her bleak life, and Anna would give it to her.

oOo

Sweeping branches overshadowed the moonlight, creating a dark, private space for them both to rest in. It was very comforting, reminiscent of the gigantic trees in Forests of Silence. Those trees had towered miles into the sky, she recalled, casting shadows at every corner—particularly at sunset, when the clouds reflected gold and amber. It gave the wood a mysterious, almost mystical appearance. At times, she would go with Jarred to the tops of the trees, carrying a sleepy Jasmine in her arms, and they would watch the sun drift below the horizon together, feeling blessed at their good fortune and comforted by the protection the forest presented.

'Who is she?' Anna murmured quietly to herself, sitting up against the trunk of the tree she and Jarred had settled under. Beside her, Jarred lay asleep, his head resting in her lap, the dark smudges under his eyes prominent. It had been a tiring day of marching. Tired though she herself was, sleep seemed far away as her mind churned, trying to make sense of what she had seen in the light of the day.

Anna had discreetly watched the girl for the past three days, waiting for an opportunity to present itself, for her to approach the girl somehow. She had watched as the girl walked with her head held high and a stubborn tilt to her chin, her eyes blazing. To Anna's surprise, she did not show any fear at all toward the Grey Guards, the lethal blisters they carried and the fact that she was marching toward certain death. In fact, she refused to look at anyone at all, preferring to glance around at the scenery instead. Not that there was anything to see—only dirt and mud and hedges of thorns. Thaegan had seen to it that all beauty in her territory was eradicated completely.

She was a fighter, Anna thought, much like Jarred. Her arms, though slim, were wiry in their strength; her hands were calloused, as if she had spent a fair amount of time wielding a sword or dagger. Her posture was that of a warrior, proud and upright, and her steps were sure. She would do well in the Arena. Almost at once Anna felt pity for her, for why else had she been chosen?

The Guards chose their candidates with care, only taking those who would put up a good fight or entertain the crowds. Sometimes, however, they would select weaker Deltorans such as herself, clearly unsuitable to fight. It baffled her; why would the Guards do such a thing, when they clearly expected their prisoners to fight a beast in the Arena? If they wanted a good fight, why choose people such as her?

'For entertainment,' Jarred had told her, smiling humourlessly. 'To send in a person who has no chance at all would please the audience. They revel in watching helpless people die.' His jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed with anguish. Anna knew what he was thinking. She was nigh on helpless herself, despite having spent seven years of her life in a forest where danger lurked at every turn. Though she knew how to throw a dagger and handle a sword, she had nowhere near as much skill as Jarred had. Her talent lay in healing, not harming.

This girl was not weak, Anna thought, gazing drowsily between the branches at the crescent moon that floated in the sky like a promise of doom. Even so, she had caught brief moments of vulnerability, of fear and uncertainty. Whatever else the girl was, she was just a girl, afraid and struggling to survive just like the rest of Deltora. It saddened Anna that a twelve year old girl was reduced to this death sentence. She had had her entire life ahead of her, and to see a young girl walking to her death made Anna want to weep.

'I will try to be her friend, at least,' she whispered into the darkness. 'I will try and talk to her. I know how she is feeling, how lonely and afraid she must be. I will try to be her friend.'

With that, she closed her eyes, and leaned back against the rough bark of the tree trunk.

oOo

There was a bed of jasmine flowers growing some feet away from their party's resting place, nestled within the roots of a dying tree. Early the next morning Anna crept from Jarred's arms toward the spot, careful not to let her chains clink too much lest the Guards wake and see her. She gently tore a bundle of the flowers from the earth, marvelling that they had been able to survive in such conditions for so long. Perhaps it was a good omen for its namesake, her own daughter, alone in the Forests of Silence.

All the others –Deltorans and Grey Guards—were asleep; all except the girl. She sat curled where she had fallen asleep the night before, her eyes fixated on Anna.

Her heart hammering in her chest, Anna rose and moved toward her, as silent as she could make herself despite the chains that rattled with her every movement.

She knelt beside the girl at a respectful distance; far enough to assure her that she was not a threat and close enough to speak without shouting. It would not do to have the Grey Guards overhearing.

'What were you doing?' the girl said, eyeing her warily.

'Picking flowers. There is a lovely patch just over there.' Anna gestured toward the dying tree, with the jasmine flowers growing close to it.

The girl cocked her head, but seemed inclined to believe her. 'The land is dead here,' she responded. 'Nothing grows. The sorceress Thaegan has seen to that.'

'Even so, I found them.' Anna smiled at her. 'Perhaps they were planted by a passing traveller, wishing to bring beauty to this desolate place.'

It was then that Anna noticed the girl staring hungrily at the flowers, the only piece of beauty in this barren land. She had most likely never seen anything as beautiful in her entire life, Anna thought, pitying her. Even in the Forests, there had been beauty, so Anna had never lacked it until now.

'Here,' and impulsively Anna proffered to her the pearl-white flowers, placing them on the ground before her when she made no move to take them. 'I think you might like them. They were my daughter's favourite.'

'You have a daughter?' Anna saw her face soften ever so slightly.

'I had, once.' Anna felt her throat tighten at the words, the reminder of her loss. 'She is long gone now.'

'I am sorry,' the girl said, sorrow in her voice. 'It must be… so painful. I could not begin to imagine how much.'

Anna looked away, out toward the Grey Guards' encampment. They were beginning to stir; soon they would wake and woes betide anyone who was unlucky to cross their path. Habitually the Guards were ill-tempered and unpredictable in the mornings, furious at having to awaken so early. They usually took it out on their prisoners, who endured it quietly. To protest meant certain death.

'It does not matter, not now.' Anna tried to harden her voice, but to her pique a quiver slipped out. She swallowed convulsively, blinking away sudden tears. At least Jasmine is not here, she told herself silently. This was no place for a child.

The girl smiled shyly at her, and reached to pick up a stem, gazing at the white petals. 'These are beautiful. I can see why your daughter loved them so.'

She bent her head over the bundle of flowers scattered on the grass, and Anna chose this time to creep away, seeing that the girl would not speak again. She made her way back to Jarred, who was by now sitting up and watching her with alert eyes. She could see that he wanted to ask her what she had been doing, but before he had a chance the Grey Guards were rousing with grunts and snarls, and it was time to march again.

oOo

That morning set in chain a number of encounters. Over the course of the following days Anna felt the girl's eyes following her, but didn't dare approach lest she scare her away completely. Let her come to me, she thought decisively. If the girl wishes to she can approach us. But Anna did not expect her to yet. The girl she had met was wary and shy of her, and would not be quick to trust. It would take time and a lot of effort on Anna's part.

She had not told Jarred of the girl, and was not sure when she planned to. There never seemed to be a good time for it—in the evenings sheer exhaustion prevented it, for usually they fell asleep as soon as their heads touched the ground. In the mornings they were hassled and harried by the Guards to continue the march, and on the march they were kept to silence and concentrated totally on marching quick enough to avoid the Grey Guards' sharp whips that flicked at their ankles every time they stumbled or slowed down. There was simply no time at all to speak to Jarred.

Somehow, she would have to make time to tell him, Anna thought. For now, however, she would have to do this on her own, for better or worse. She would be lying to herself if she claimed that she was doing this for purely selfless reasons. In truth, she badly wanted to mother that girl, to have the feeling of being needed, and not just by Jarred. She missed Jasmine; missed being a mother to her. If she befriended that girl, then perhaps the ache in her soul would fade and her loss would grow easier to bear.

It was all she could hope for now.

Three days after that precipitous morning, she awoke to find the girl standing over her, a hand held out. There was a sprig of a plant in her palm; one so lovely that tears sprang into Anna's eyes.

'Saffron,' she said as Anna gaped. 'It grows here. I saw it, once before, and now as we marched. It has healing properties.'

'I have never seen it before,' Anna murmured, wondering. 'It does not grow where I come from.'

'It does not grow in many places. Before…' and the girl hesitated. 'Before the destruction of Jaliad it grew there. I did not think it grew anywhere else, until I saw it here.'

Jaliad. Jaliad had been the main city of the Jalis, before the Shadow Lord had decimated that tribe. Jarred had told her so, long ago when they still lived in the forge. Anna stared at her, searching for signs but finding none. The girl was shorter than most Jalis had been, but she looked to be as capable a fighter and just as proud.

'Are you a Jalis?' she asked at last.

The girl shook her head. 'It does not matter now what any of us are. We are all going to die soon.'

Anna reached out and took the plant between shaking fingers. 'Why?' she demanded. 'Why give it to me?'

'To repay a debt,' the girl said steadily. 'You showed me beauty, and kindness. I wished to return the favour. It is honorable,' she added proudly, lifting her chin. 'You did me a kindness, so now I do you a kindness.'

Anna paused, staring at the girl, before saying, 'Thank you. That was kind of you.'

Before she could open her mouth again the girl was gone, and Anna was left with more questions than she would have liked to have. Frowning, she clambered to her feet. The girl looked nothing like a Jalis, but certainly acted like one. How could that be?

She resolved to ask Jarred about it, when they next made camp. He would know far better than she about the subject; he had studied more about Deltora during his childhood with King Endon than she ever had as a blacksmith's granddaughter. At any rate, he could tell her whether her new friend was truly a Jalis or not.

oOo

It was beginning to drizzle as they made their preparations to depart. Anna viewed the droplets and prayed that fate was merciful and left it at that. Nothing would make the Grey Guards halt the march—it seemed as if they would be walking in the rain.

By mid-morning the spitting had turned into a torrential downpour which drenched the prisoners' clothes and hair and made Anna completely miserable. The once-sure pathway was muddy and clotting with rainwater, making for a treacherous walk. Already several Deltorans had slipped and fallen, and had had to be left behind. The little girl with the flowing golden hair had twisted an ankle and now walked with a limp, her face a mask of agony with every step she took. The woman who had lost her lover had fallen prey to a Grey Guard's whip, and had tumbled into the mud and refused to rise again. Anna could not tell whether it was from defiance or injury, but it did not faze their captors. In the blink of an eye several blisters hit their mark, and the woman stilled. The party quickly moved on, cautious and afraid, and Anna silently grieved for the woman, whose life had been taken in a moment's notice, in such a fashion.

On that day alone, the Guards had lost seven of their prisoners, much to their irritation. The woman without her lover, the man who would not speak, and five others who Anna could not recall. The mute man had been the last to fall, a scant hour before they made camp. Anna recalled his death with a shudder. At the edge of the march, the man had stopped, but had not been noticed until the group was some meters ahead of him. Anna could see that he was trembling, but he did not flinch as the Grey Guards bore down upon him. He muttered something, and a Guard snapped, 'What did you say, tick?'

With a face bleached of colour, the man squared his shoulders and said, 'I…I s-said, I will not die on y-your terms.'

Anna hid her hand in her skirt pocket to hide its shaking. It was suicide, and most likely what the man wanted. He wished to die now, and quickly, in this wind-swept, rainy track at the hands of the Grey Guards and their blisters, rather than slowly in the Shadow Arena. She marveled at his audacity to stand up to the Grey Guards, and knew without a doubt that she would never have had the courage to do so. She was not alone in the world; she had Jarred to think of. She could not leave him alone, not willingly.

She clutched at Jarred's hand, feeling her face blanch as the Guards trained their blisters on the poor man. The man himself did nothing to fend the blisters away, as the six other prisoners had done. He simply spread out his arms and let them take him, without a scream or even a grimace of pain. As he fell, he seemed… at peace, Anna thought, as if he had finally escaped beyond the reach of the Shadow Lord and his servants. They could not touch him any longer.

As soon as they made camp, Anna felt the horror of the day overcome her and she stumbled toward a tree just in time, retching. Later she lay on the dirt, drawing comfort from Jarred's arms and the warmth of his body against hers. The sky seemed starless that night, starless and moonless. Dark and foreboding, it seemed to envelop her like a heavy blanket, tightening her throat and making it impossible to speak. Those who had fallen to the Grey Guards' blisters ate at her mind like gnats, their screams ringing in her ears. They had died so painfully, like animals. One throw and they were gone. It had been quick, as the silent man had hoped, but it could not be any less painful than being torn apart by a Vraal in the Shadow Arena.

Bile filled her mouth, but she swallowed the sickness back. Tears blurred her vision. They had not deserved any of it. Why was fate so cruel? Why did it have to be this way? These people had done nothing wrong; and yet they had been condemned to death. It was not fair at all.

'Anna?' Jarred's voice seemed loud in the silence. She felt herself jump slightly; she had thought him asleep. 'Are you alright?'

She turned to face him. 'Did that man have the right of it?' she said, her voice breaking. 'Is it better to die here at the hands of a Grey Guard's blister, than in the Shadowlands?'

Jarred said nothing, but she could feel his body stiffen.

'I thought it brave of him; and I envied him that choice. At least he was able to choose the manner of his death. But we… we have no choice. We are marching to our deaths, Jarred. Does it truly matter how we die?' She swallowed back a wave of sickness, and failed to suppress the shudder that went through her.

For a long moment, Jarred was quiet. Something flashed in his eyes; anguish, perhaps? 'I do not know, dear heart,' he said slowly. 'It may be so. But I do not wish to die at the hands of a Grey Guard.' He gave a hard laugh. 'By the Belt, Anna, do you truly think that I am not afraid? I am terrified. Every day I wonder. Which one of us will die first? You or I? If it comes to it, and you die first, I do not know what I will do. I cannot stand the thought of being without each other, even for a moment.' His arms tightened around her. 'If I die first you will be alone, and I cannot stand the thought of it, of not being there for you. It is just as well Jasmine is not here,' he added bitterly. 'It is like you said, she would not have lasted a moment. She would have died with those people on the march, and we would not have been able to help her. It would have broken me, Anna. It still pains me to know that she is either dead or growing up alone in First Wood.' He shook his head, and smiled ruefully. 'At least she is not here to hear her parents talk of how they are going to die.'

Anna trembled; she could not help it. The thought of death frightened her as it did Jarred.

'We are bound together,' she said. 'Trapped. If we did not have each other I would choose as the silent man did. I would choose to die on my own terms, in Deltora. I would want my last sight to be of our homeland.' She shuddered, feeling the tears sting her eyes. 'And you most of all. But I cannot think of dying now. I cannot bear the thought of leaving you alone.' She shuddered again, and felt the hot moisture slide down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Her fingers clenched, nails digging into her palms, and the sharp pain it produced was a welcome relief from the agony of the soul. 'I cannot,' she repeated, and almost choked at the words. And then she was shuddering and shaking and couldn't stop if she tried, and felt Jarred's arms around her and his body trembling against hers.

They both spoke at the same time and she could not understand what either of them was saying but she was too far gone to care. She leaned back against Jarred, weeping, and felt the dampness of his cheeks and closed her eyes, the pain of her heart too great to bear. Oh, by fate it was too much. Her daughter was gone, her beautiful Jasmine with the dark tangled hair and green eyes so much like her own that it hurt to think of them. She would never hold her again, never see eyes light up with pleasure and mischief over something or other, would never see her straddle a tree branch as naturally as if she were walking on the ground. She would not see her grow into the young woman she knew she would become one day. By fate, she was going to die. And she clung to Jarred, feeling the sobs wrack her body and felt as if she were dying inside already.

She felt Jarred's body tremble beside her and knew he felt the exact same way.

oOo

They awoke at dawn, bleary-eyed and feeling as if they had battled a storm inside themselves. Anna thought that perhaps they had. She certainly felt much less troubled than she had been for the past weeks, ever since she had left her daughter behind. Jarred seemed to be more at peace as well; the frown lines on his brow had smoothed away. The thought of Jasmine alone in the Forests still bothered her, to be sure, but the very thought that she would never see her again was less painful.

We have come to terms with our deaths, Anna thought absently, and then felt horror at the thought.

'Anna,' Jarred said in a hoarse voice. 'What is it you said last night?'

'I cannot remember,' she confessed, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. 'I lost track of everything after a time.' In truth, now that she thought about it she may have said something along the lines of, 'I love you,' but she could not be sure. She could not be sure of many things about that night.

In the companionable silence that followed, she recalled the conversation she had meant to have with Jarred which had completely fallen out of her mind.

'Jarred,' she said urgently. 'I must tell you something.'

Before she had a chance to speak again, the Guards were rousing and ordering the march to begin again. Anna sighed at the interruption and looked at Jarred. Their talk would have to come later. For now, it was time to walk again.

oOo

To her surprise, the girl approached Anna at midday, as the sun was reaching its full zenith in the sky. Anna was not aware of it at first, concentrating as she was so much on just standing and moving her already aching feet forward inch by inch. Anna thought that she must have a blister on the sole of her left foot; there was a searing pain each time she set it down. Wincing, she barely felt the soft tug at her sleeve, and looked up to find the girl walking beside her, staring at her with fathomless brown eyes. Beside her Anna could see Jarred look on in interest, and wondered how she would explain this to him later. She had not expected the girl to openly approach her so soon.

'How did you fare yesterday?' she asked her.

'Well,' the girl said in a matter of fact voice. She tapped her foot briefly, emphasizing the large purple bruise that lingered on her ankle. 'I stumbled once and was whipped for it, but that is all. The woman beside me was maimed completely.'

'It is very fortunate that you were not,' Jarred said courteously.

'Yes,' she agreed, glancing warily at him. Quickly Anna realized that introductions were in order.

'I am Anna, and this is my husband Jarred,' she said gently. 'What is your name?'

'Jenara,' the girl said, after a pause. 'After my mother.'

'That is a lovely name,' Anna remarked.

'She is dead now. Both my parents are. There was only my brother, until I was taken.' The girl-Jenara-smiled. 'He is a great warrior. If he had been with me he would have defeated them singlehandedly.'

At this, Jarred raised a skeptical eyebrow, but Anna felt it best to murmur, 'I am sure he would have,' though she felt the same as Jarred. No person could surely a troop of Grey Guards by themselves.

She gave the girl a warm smile, hoping to off-set any awkwardness or suspicions. 'If you would like you can stay with us when we stop for the night. It would not be any trouble.'

For a moment the only silence was the stamping and shuffling of marching feet. The girl looked from Anna to Jarred, frowning slightly. 'No,' she said seriously. 'It is kind of you, but no. I will sleep by myself. It is better that way.'

'But...' Anna began. It did not sit well with her to allow a young girl to sleep alone, apart from a group. Surely it was safer to keep together?

Jarred touched her shoulder gently. 'Leave it be, Anna,' he said quietly. 'It is her choice.'

She turned toward him, feeling her head pound with her every movement. 'She would be safer with us. Oh, why would you agree with her?' She heard the desperation in her own voice, struggling though she did to conceal it. 'Why?'

'Despite it all, she is not our daughter, Anna,' he said roughly. 'She is free to choose what she wills. If she wants to be alone, then so be it.' He saw the frustration on her face and sighed, but said no more, much to Anna's relief. She did not have the will to converse at that moment.

Her thoughts lingered on the girl. Why would she choose thusly? Pride? Had she not wanted to intrude? Whatever it was, Jarred was right. It was her own choice, and she had chosen this, for whatever reason. Anna just hoped it was not an error of judgement in doing so.

oOo

That night they lay together under the stars. There was no shelter for miles to see, but there was no sign of a coming storm, so it did not matter in any case. Almost as soon as they were settled Jarred turned to Anna. 'What have you been up to, dear heart?' His voice was amused and curious, but not very surprised.

Anna smiled at him, and caressed his cheek. 'You know already.'

'Yes,' he agreed. 'I do. It was a kind thing you did, asking that girl,' he added quietly. 'You are right; it is dangerous out there.'

'I know,' she said somberly.

In the light of the moon, Jarred's face appeared almost ghostly as he frowned. 'Just be careful, please. If you are harmed, I do not know what I would do.'

'This girl is no danger to us,' Anna said fiercely. 'I would bet my life on it.'

Jarred shuddered at her words. 'Not your life, Anna. Anything but that.' He looked steadily at her. 'We know next to nothing about her. You may be right, and she is no threat, but we should not take that chance. There are the Grey Guards, as well. What if they see you?'

Anna met his gaze. 'They have not yet.' And they never would, Anna thought with determination.

'There is always a first time.'

'They will not care about two prisoners conversing. They only care if one tries to escape.'

'They will not notice the difference between a conversing prisoner and an escaping one. They would kill you on sight.'

Anna tried not to show how frightened she was at that possibility. She looked at Jarred head-on. 'You know I will do this thing, whatever you say,' she said. She felt a laugh rise up her throat, bitter and half-hysterical. 'We are doomed already, Jarred. What does it matter if I take this one risk? Either way I will die.'

A shadow rose in his eyes, dark and unfathomable. For a time he simply stared at her, and she could see the anguish in his eyes. 'I do know,' he said quietly. 'I could not stop you even if I wanted to. Just promise me that you will be careful.'

Anna lay a hand on his arm. 'Of course I will,' she said gently.

'And remember... she is not our Jasmine. I know you miss her.' He gave a short, rueful laugh. 'I do, too. But this girl is not her. You cannot think of her like that.'

'I do not,' Anna said, exasperated. 'You know that. No child could ever replace Jasmine in my heart.' She could feel her face soften and her heart ache as she thought of her daughter. It would always be that way. 'I do miss her,' she admitted. 'I do not seek a replacement, but I long to be needed again, as Jasmine needed me. I want to do something, care for someone, help someone. I can help this girl.' She gazed steadily at his, feeling her heart hammer with her every breath. 'I must do this, Jarred. It gives me... purpose. It stops me from wondering and worrying about Jasmine, about us. About our fates.'

She felt rather than saw Jarred shudder briefly. 'I know,' he said hoarsely. 'Just be careful.'

'I will,' she repeated, smiling at him reassuringly.

Later she would remember those words with a bitter irony.

oOo

Over the next few days, Anna met with the girl Jenara a number of times. The first time, it was after the march had halted for the night. Anna sought her out, and found her sitting by herself, looking out at the stars. She sat beside her, and they talked. At first, it was just Anna talking, about Jasmine, about her old life in the Forests of Silence, but as the girl began to warm to her she began to talk, as well.

She was in fact a Jalis, as Anna had suspected. Born in Jaliad five years before the Shadow Lord's invasion, she was the result of her father mating with a Plainswoman long ago. 'He loved her, you see,' the girl told her. 'He brought her to Jaliad and married her. They had my brother soon after. My grandfather was unhappy, but he could not do anything about it. It would not have been honorable.' Her eyes lit up, and she laughed. 'He got over it, after a while.'

Anna laughed with her. 'Is honor so important?' she said lightly.

The girl looked at her gravely. 'To us, it is.'

Anna learnt a great deal about the Jalis, as well. She had some knowledge from what Jarred had told her, but Jenara's animated accounts of her life in Jaliad painted a large picture of that doomed tribe and their customs. They held honor in the highest regard, even in battle. Tall and ferocious, they were also superstitious, carrying around family talismans to protect them in battle. They also did not believe in washing. The more Anna listened she wondered. The Jalis had always seemed like a myth to her, but hearing of them from an actual Jalis member made them ever more so. She could hardly believe that anyone would live as they did, communally and hygienically, without a pillow or blanket in sight. But she saw Jenara's pride at her tribe and its customs, and kept silent, not wanting to accidentally offend her.

There were some things they did not talk of, however. Anna did not tell of her capture from First Wood; it hurt too much to speak of it, even now. Of a surety she did not mention the reason she and her family had been living there in the first place. Jenara did not speak of her own capture, or the decimation of her people. The only thing she told Anna was that her parents had died when she was five years old, and she had been looked after by her older brother ever since. She gave no names but her own; it was safer that way, she said.

Safer for whom? Anna wondered.

The next day, it was the same, and the day after, as well. Sometimes Jenara approached Anna, and sometimes it was the other way around. Even so, Jenara never chose to stay with Anna and Jarred; always she said she would rather be alone. Anna never questioned it, for after all, it was her choice. But still she wondered, and worried.

The day after, it rained. Fortunately, it was only a light drizzle, and Anna felt relief at it. She had been certain that it would be another downpour, having seen the dark clouds on the horizon the night before. That night, she commented to Jarred that they had got lucky. They would never have been able to walk through another storm.

She spoke too soon. The next morning she awoke to the sound of ominous thunder, not far but close, closer than she would have liked. Then came the flash, almost immediately after. It lit the darkened sky like a flame, golden and threatening. Foreboding filled Anna, and she clutched at Jarred's arm.

'Do they truly expect us to walk in that?' she demanded, horrified. She already knew the answer, however. Of course they would.

They watched as the Guards rose and began to hammer their prisoners into submission, and Jarred said flatly, 'Yes.'

Throughout that entire day, rain fell in torrents, drenching them all, leaving them shivering and wet. Thunder rumbled unpredictably every so often, causing Deltorans to stumble in fright and find a whip lashing at their ankles. The lightning was even worse, blinding the party and making the road even more treacherous than it already was. Every few moments Anna would find herself slipping into a puddle of mud but quickly regained her balance and her speed, knowing the price of not doing so. Others were less lucky; the little girl with the fair hair slipped and broke her neck, and had to be left behind.

Was it any surprise that she did not see it coming? She could not see a thing in the darkness that was mixed with occasional flashes of light, and though she kept her head to the ground the entire time she did not see it, it was so dark. One moment, she was walking gingerly, stepping over puddles and loose rocks, and the next, she was stumbling, falling, her leg jerking and twisting as it landed. She stifled a scream as she felt the twisted, agonizing pain emanating from it.

Inwardly she cursed herself. How could she have not seen the pothole?

She felt Jarred at her side, felt his alarm as if it were her own. He said nothing, but grabbed her arm. With his help she wrenched her ankle free, gasping at the sharp jab of pain it produced, and struggled to her feet. It was imperative that they move on, and quickly, before the Grey Guards saw them.

She smiled weakly at Jarred, and took a step forward. A wave of pain swamped her almost immediately. Crying out, she stumbled again, and fell on her face. As she felt the mud coat her skin and the rain on her back, she knew she would not be able to get up again. As if from a long distance away she could hear Jarred begging her to get up, quickly, and the ominous sound of thunder masking the sound of the Grey Guards' approach.

Rough hands grabbed at her wrists, jerking her to her feet. Anna blinked up at the Guards, hardly able to process what was happening. Black dots hovered before her eyes, and she found herself swaying. The only thing keeping her from fainting there and then was the painfully tight grip on her arms.

Her sight came in fragments. In one, she saw a blister poised in a Guard's hand, aimed at her. She felt no fear, however; she was too far gone to feel anything now. She realised that she was going to die, and recalled her earlier question to Jarred. Is it better to die here at the hands of a Grey Guard's blister, than in the Shadowlands? She had said that she would choose to die that way, in Deltora, but for Jarred. Now she was going to die that way, but Anna felt no relief in it, only regret. She would be leaving Jarred to march alone to the Shadowlands. She would never see her daughter again.

She closed her eyes and waited for agonizing pain of a blister hitting its mark.

None came.

She was too exhausted to open her eyes again. She heard voices, Jarred's among them, arguing, shouting. She wanted to beg Jarred to stop, to think of himself and not put himself in danger, but her tongue was numb and would not move. And then she was being roughly handled, moved to one side of the dirt road. Calloused hands forced her eyes open.

For a moment she squinted, trying to see through the darkness and torrents of water that blinded her.

It came in fragments of rain-swept vision.

Jarred.

The Grey Guards.

The whip.

She wanted to cry out, but nothing sounded. She wanted to break free, turn away, but the grip on her was too strong. She could only watch with a rain-drenched face as they grabbed at him, forcing him to his knees.

And then it came: one stroke, two, three. He jerked at the shock of it, arching his back slightly. Bile rose in Anna's throat at the slithers of blood that seeped from the fresh cuts. They splattered onto the ground, in heavy, crimson drops, forming small puddles at his feet.

She heaved, fighting back a sudden urge to vomit.

The whip crashed down again and again, until all Anna could see was blood, blood on Jarred's back and on the muddy dirt road. She felt herself sway, heard a moan come from her throat that mingled with Jarred's pained cry. Tears burned in her eyes and streaked down the side of her face. Please let it be over soon, she cried silently. She did not think she could stand any more. She heard him cry out again and felt his agony and anguish as if it were her own, tearing a gaping hole inside of her heart. Stop, just stop! she wanted to shriek. No more. Please, no more. She wanted to block her ears, claw the bloody sight from her mind, but the grip on her arms was too strong.

She did not know how long it went on for, but it seemed like hours. At last, they released him and he lurched toward her, questions on his lips. She fell into his arms, murmuring reassurances. She was alright, she was okay. But she was not alright. She was exhausted to the bone, frightened and aching all over. Her wrists still hurt from the Grey Guard's painfully-tight grip. Her ankle hurt so much she wanted to cry out but did not dare. She felt the tears sting her eyes and struggled to choke back the sob that shook her.

She did not know how they made it; she only knew that they did, clinging to one another, stumbling over the rain-swept ground as quickly as they could. Anna could feel the dampness in her hair, on her arms and the backs of her legs, but could not tell if it was rainwater or blood. And that made her recall the blood pooling on the ground behind Jarred's legs and the sharp sound of the whip cutting into his back, and this time Anna could not stop the vomit that burst from her mouth.

Darkness descended, and the Grey Guards called a halt. They stopped, swaying, gasping for breath. A sob of relief wracked Anna's chest. They had made it.

Black spots danced before her eyes, and she sank back against Jarred's chest. Dimly she saw Jenara standing alongside them, speaking, but Anna could not hear what she was saying. As if from afar, she heard Jarred reply in a weary, pain-torn voice.

'Jarred,' she whispered, praying that the Jalis girl could hear her. 'Help Jarred.'

And then darkness was descending, and she knew no more.

oOo

She awoke to find herself lying on a comfortable piece of grass a short distance away from the main group, in a moonlit clearing. Turning her head, she saw that Jarred lay beside her, unconscious and stark pale under the moonlight. To her surprise, she saw makeshift bandages made out of some sort of leaf wrapped around his middle. When she looked back to herself, she found her ankle cloaked with the same. Amazement colored her mind. How...

There was a sound of cracking twigs, and Anna's head jerked up to see a figure slip into the clearing. Jenara. At once Anna knew that she had done this.

The girl approached warily and quietly, coming to sit at Anna's feet.

'You saved both our lives,' Anna said softly. 'Thank you.'

Jenara looked at her with grave brown eyes. 'It was not just me,' she said. 'A woman helped-Kaldi. She was a seamstress once, and showed me how to make a needle out of bark and glue the leaves together. We did it together.'

Anna simply stared at her, unable to find any words. This girl- and that woman- had chosen to help them, despite the risks, despite the fact that they were all going to die anyway, in the end. Tears of gratitude stung her eyes. No words could express what she was feeling right now.

'Why?' she croaked out.

'You did me a kindness, once,' Jenara said. 'You gave me beauty, and then friendship. At first I was wary and afraid, but you changed that. I began to like you, more than I had thought I would. It frightened me, so I stayed away. I wanted it to be just me when I went into the Shadowlands.' She paused, took a breath. 'And then I saw you both wounded, and I just... acted.' Anna thought she saw trepidation in the girl's eyes.

'We owe you our lives,' Anna said, her voice shaking. She had been sure that they would not have survived the next day's march, with her twisted ankle and Jarred's wounded back. Of a surety, Jarred would have died without bandages to help stem the blood-flow from his cuts. Her vision blurred at the generosity and courage of the human spirit.

'It was honorable,' Jenara said steadily. 'I had to do it.'

'Thank you.' Anna felt exhaustion sweep over her again, and she let her eyelids close.

'Jenara?' She forced her mouth to form the words before she succumbed to the darkness. 'Will you stay with us now?'

Sleep was nearly upon her, and Anna awaited it gratefully. Just as the darkness descended, the girl's answer came to her ear, soft and hesitant in the silent night: 'Yes.'


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The march continues. Jarred copes with feelings of guilt and fear.

Black hair glinted brown under a setting sun, a small tanned hand tracing the lines of a clumsily drawn castle. A radiant smile. It is so pretty! What does it mean, papa? Excited laughter, arms clinging to him, hugging him. A sleepy face smiling at him. I love you, papa.

A dagger, inlaid with crystal, placed into eager hands. His warning: Be careful, it is sharp. You could cut yourself. Fingers clutching capably at the hilt, a usually carefree face filled with gravity. Well done, Jasmine, the voice of his memory said. Another image, of the dagger where he had left it in the burnt ruins of their home, on that day which had changed everything for them. Perhaps it was still there, waiting. It would not have been destroyed along with the house; it was metal and thus was hard to burn. Perhaps Jasmine had found it. He would never know for sure.

Memories of burning. Flames licking up the tree-house that he had built so long ago, so close that Jarred felt the heat as if it were inside him. He could feel sweat beading on his brow, his chest, the back of his neck. It was as if he were on fire, but not. At times he could feel himself move restlessly, as if to try to put out the blazing heat. Each time, he felt a gentle, cool hand touch his brow, as if attempting to still him, and he would feel his body steady itself in response.

He walked, but had no recollection of where he was or why he must walk. He felt numb, and longed to stop and sleep but knew without thinking that it would mean his death. Sometimes he stumbled, and felt the flick of a whip at his ankles, and heard Anna's voice telling him, begging him, to keep going, that it would be over soon. He clung onto that voice as a lifeline, soothing and cool to his delirious state of mind. It comforted him, in a bitter fashion. He had lost his daughter, but he still had his wife.

His dreams were fevered and fragmented. Sometimes he dreamt of blood mingling with rainwater, and the cutting edge of the whip flaying into his back, producing a pain beyond bearing. Other times, it was of their capture in First Wood, seeing the Grey Guards bear down upon them and the tears streaking down Anna's face at the knowledge that they would not be there to see their daughter grow up. And at times it was of what awaited them in the Shadowlands. Blood. Death. Torture; the torture of seeing a loved one be torn to pieces, hearing their screams as they died. Most times, it was Anna he saw in that Arena, screaming and sobbing her pain as a huge, monstrous reptilian creature slowly ate at her. And at other times it was their daughter, her small body mangled and bloody. Jasmine, who was so much like Anna in looks, but Jarred in temperament. Jarred would awaken each night with a cry at his lips and those images of torture in his mind. Each time, a gentle hand would caress his cheek, and a familiar voice would envelop him, full of love and determination, half-sobbing words of comfort and encouragement, hope and faith. It is alright, Jarred. It is only a nightmare. Do not be afraid.

It seemed as if it continued for an eternity, this dream-like state of nightmares, blood and burning. Jarred could not tell when it had begun, and had no clue as to when it could possibly end, if it had an end. Perhaps it would go on forever, the fragmented dreams of blood and death which plagued him so much. All he could see were flashes of blood and fire and the occasional glint of dark hair in a setting sun, and the face of his wife smiling at him, fingers caressing his cheek with such love that it brought tears to his eyes. He clung to those images, to sustain him in his waking nightmare. To give him hope.

Black hair glinting brown under a setting sun...

oOo

Jarred woke to the light of a full moon and the coolness of a gentle breeze whipping through him. The only sounds that could be heard were the snores and grunts of the Grey Guards as they slept; otherwise the world around him was silent as death. He slowly opened his eyes, almost afraid of what he would see.

Three faces gazed down at him. One was achingly familiar, another he had only known for a short while. The final one he did not remember at all.

Anna smiled down at him, tears glinting in her eyes. From his vantage point Jarred could see an ugly purple bruise on her cheek. Jarred did not dare wonder where she had gotten it from. A Grey Guard, probably. On the whole she looked tired and worn-out and afraid, and all Jarred wanted to do was hold her close.

'How long?' he rasped.

'Four days.' Anna lay a gentle hand on his forehead. It did not feel as ice-cold as it did before. 'The fever does seem to be gone. How do you feel?'

'Cold,' he said, shivering. He tried to sit up and felt nausea consume him, prompting him to vomit onto the grass beside him. The taste of it almost made him gag. 'Cold and sick.'

'But not hot?' Anna's eyes held a blossoming hope.

'No.' He looked up at her, wincing at a stab of pain in his neck as he did so. 'I do not think so.'

Anna's eyes flooded with relief. 'Thank fate,' she whispered.

His gaze was drawn to the two people kneeling beside her. The girl Jenara he had recognised, having already met her previously, and hazily recalled speaking to on the day of the storm as the fresh, open cuts on his back ached and stung and blood dripped onto the grass at his feet. The older, wiry woman beside her introduced herself as Kaldi of the Mere. A seamstress, as Anna told him quietly in an aside. She had been the one to sew together the bandages that had covered Jarred's wounds and Anna's injured ankle, bandages made out of leaves.

Jarred could not imagine how she could have done so; the land was so dry and cracked, with hardly any greenery anywhere to be seen. All of Thaegan's territory seemed to be like this. It was nothing like the greenery in the Forests of Silence, or even in the countryside surrounding it. Thaegan had made it otherwise. Certainly there was no chance of finding herbs and string for sewing. If there were, Anna would have done so long ago.

When he asked her, the woman Kaldi simply shrugged. 'A seamstress must keep her secrets,' she said in a toneless, thread-like voice. 'I am glad I could be of some use. The march is hard; harder for some than others.'

Jarred wondered at how a Mere woman had been captured so far from her home territory, but knew better than to ask aloud. The sad, hopeless look in her eyes was answer enough- the look of someone who had experienced much grief and pain already, resigned at her fate at having one more disaster befall her. The villages they had passed during the march were grievously poverty-stricken and plagued by famine; so much so that villagers were forced to abandon their homes in vain search for another less stricken village to live in. It would not surprise him if this woman had fallen prey to the same fate.

Now, he realised with a jolt, proper, real bandages were covering his wounds; he felt it, rough but clean against the small of his back. He also noticed a bowl of water cupped in Anna's hands, held towards him. He took it and obligingly drank (by the Belt, the water felt so good against his parched throat), and immediately felt drowsiness closing in on him. Automatically, he fought against it, feeling his body tense painfully. If he slept he would see the images that had haunted his dreams for so many nights- images that terrified him, made him tremble inside. Jasmine dying, screaming. Anna torn to pieces. It was enough to make any man go insane.

Anna lay a calming hand on his cheek, caressing it as she had for the past nights and days. As always, he felt himself relax at her touch. 'Hush,' she said gently. 'You must sleep, Jarred; do not try to fight it.'

'But…' He wanted to ask so many things. Why did Anna have a bruise on her cheek? Why did he have clean, fresh bandages wrapped around his middle, when the last thing he remembered before the fever consumed him was the feel of the make-shift bandage of leaves grating against his back? What had happened over the past days?

'Later,' Anna said gently.

His tongue was too numbed by weariness to argue with her. The drowsiness almost consuming him, he relaxed onto the sparse grass, his head finding Anna's lap. With soft fingers stroking his hair over and over again, he drifted into sleep, feeling surprisingly at peace with himself. And for the first time in many nights, he did not dream of blood.

oOo

Someone was weeping in the darkness of the clearing, cradling his head within trembling arms. As he rose into consciousness once more, feeling his mind grow more and more alert, that thought was clear in his mind. The weeping was broken and stifled and so agonised that it almost tore Jarred to shreds to hear it; so much so that he desperately wished his arms were not so weak, so that he could block out the grief. It reminded him too much of his own fevered, crimson-tainted nightmares.

He opened his eyes to find Anna kneeling beside him, head bowed, tears shining silver on her cheeks. He felt her arms tremble, heard the choked sob in her throat, and felt his heart ache sorely inside of him. If there was one thing he could not stand, it was seeing Anna in pain.

Slowly, feeling weary muscles creak, he craned his head to gaze up at her.

'Anna,' he whispered weakly. 'Dear heart.'

Her own head came up, and it hurt to see the sorrow in her eyes. 'So you are awake,' she said huskily. That was all she said; her words died away with the soft wind that came soon after. She just gazed at him with a mixture of sadness, fear and hurt. He wanted so badly to comfort her, but did not know how. How could he? He could not lie to her and say that everything would be alright; they both knew better to believe that. They both knew where their journey would end.

'I do not know why I bothered,' Anna said at last, in a bleak murmur. 'It would have been more merciful for both of us if I had just let you die. But I could not stand the thought of being alone.' Tears pooled in her eyes. 'It was selfish of me, perhaps. It would have been a better death than any you would have in the Shadow Arena.'

'It would not be better, Anna,' he said fiercely. 'It would kill me twice-over to know that you were forced to go on to the Shadowlands alone. I could not bear the thought of it.' He shook his head impatiently, though it pained his neck to do so. 'I would rather die fighting, in any case, than at the hands of the Grey Guards.' It was what he had told Anna not so long ago, after another hard march through rain and wind. He still believed it. Better to die fighting than to die passively as a victim.

At his words, Anna's face crumpled, and Jarred saw the tears flow like small rivers down her cheeks. 'Jarred…' she whispered. Just his name. His heart nearly broke inside him to hear the grief and fear it encompassed. Grief at their fates, and that of their daughter. Fear for them. Resignation as well, at the thought of their deaths. And really, what did it matter? They were just two people, insignificant in comparison to the whole of Deltora. They had made their choice long ago, had sacrificed everything for Endon and Sharn and their heir, the heir to the Belt of Deltora. If they died, what did it matter, as long as the heir survived?

'I love you,' and his throat tightened with the words.

Anna cupped his cheek, caressing it. 'I know,' she said. Her lips curved into a wavering smile. 'I love you, too.' Her eyes were emerald-green pools in the darkness; so much like Jasmine's that his heart ached.

What had become of his daughter?

He forced himself to continue, quietly and urgently. 'We must be strong, Anna. Jasmine will survive. The heir will survive. They must.'

He struggled to suppress the tremble in his voice, at the thought of Jasmine. Jarred had tried not to think about it, about Jasmine's fate, but at the back of his mind the fears and uncertainty lingered. Perhaps she was dead, from the terrors of the Forests. Perhaps she was hunted and afraid. It did not matter in any case, Jarred thought with pain in his heart. Whether Jasmine was alive or dead, he and Anna would never know. They would just have to pray that she would live and survive.

He drew comfort from Anna's warmth and her arms around him, and her soft voice telling him everything he had missed in his fevered state. He could feel the aching tightness of her grip, as if she could not bear to let him go. And perhaps she could not. The memory of the stormy, bloody day was as fresh in her mind as it was in his. He was not sure that they would ever be free of it, and it made his heart ache to think so. So much had been distorted already; could they bear one more thing, one more memory?

More captives had died, mostly from the strains of walking during the storm five days before. Their party had dwindled; Jarred had already noticed that- had seen the absence of faces he had grown used to during the past days and weeks of hard walking. The Grey Guards were furious, much to Jarred's bitter satisfaction, and had been taking out their fury on their prisoners, with their whips and harsh taunts. They were especially targeting those too weak and slow to keep up with the march, though they did not do harm enough to kill, mindful of how dwindled their group of prisoners was.

It had taken all the will and determination of Anna, Kaldi and Jenara combined to prevent the Guards from preying on their small group. While Jarred had lingered in fever, the three women had forcibly hauled him to his feet, and helped him to walk, fast enough so that the Grey Guards would not take notice of him, or any of them. Now, it was a blur to Jarred; the fever-and the memories with it-had been too strong for him to notice much else. It awed him to no end to see the strength in his wife, and their two new-found friends. It was as he had told Endon long ago- he was indeed fortunate to have married her. He did not know what he would do without her; he would surely go mad. He almost shuddered to think of it.

At length, Anna stopped talking, and buried her face in his chest, shuddering. 'I am so glad you are alright, Jarred,' she said, her voice muffled. 'I do not know what I would have done if you had been killed. For a long time, I was so afraid that...' Her voice trailed away, and Jarred felt the wetness on her cheeks as she shook her head.

He swallowed hard. 'Was it so close?' he asked her quietly.

Under the moonlight, he saw Anna shake her head mutely. 'No,' she said at last. 'But it looked so, for a time. You cannot know how you looked, Jarred. Fevered and wild-eyed and shivering. It happened so quickly, so suddenly, and at times I thought it would never end.' Tears dampened his tattered shirt, and he felt her shiver, but not with cold. 'The nights were the worst. We had to hold you down, for you were shuddering and tossing so much. You wept as well, and ranted, ranted aloud, speaking my name, and Jasmine's...' She looked away, overcome by her emotions.

Without thought, he held Anna's body against his. 'I am alright now, dear heart,' he said softly. 'It is over.'

For now, a voice within him whispered.

As Anna drifted into sleep, Jarred stared into the night sky, fear and helpless rage spiking through him. It would never end, not until they were both dead. The Shadow Lord and his servants would torture them, force them into battle again and again for the entertainment of the crowds, until one or both of them finally perished. It hurt him to think of it, but he knew he could not evade it. He and Anna would die in the Shadowlands, one after the other.

It was cruel, cruel and unfair, that they should suffer this fate, that Jasmine should be rendered an orphan and alone in the Forests of Silence. What had they done, for it to be like this? They had been taken from their home, from their daughter, to be paraded to a gladiator's arena where they would eventually die, horribly and brutally, if they did not die during the march to the Shadowlands. Jasmine was only a child; she had no way of protecting herself from the dangers of the forest floor. Perhaps she was already dead, eaten by a feral beast or poisoned by a lethal plant she had mistaken for a source of food. Jarred would never know. He did not think he even wanted to know. Better to live in ignorance during the time he had left, than to feel the heart-rending anguish that would surely follow if Jasmine was truly dead.

He closed his eyes to the images that invaded his mind at the unbearable thought, and shuddered. They were too close to the blood-chilling illusions he had seen and felt in his fever-ravaged dreams. Anna dead. Jasmine bloody and torn to pieces. His heart shattering at the sight of their mangled bodies. Grey Guard snarling and sneering, raising their blisters at his defenceless family, his daughter's agonized screams as the blisters hit their targets...

Jarred held Anna tightly against him, and not for the first time gave thanks that Jasmine was not with them. It would have complicated everything. It was bad enough that Anna was there with him, in constant danger, marching toward death. If Jasmine had been with them Jarred knew he would have gone mad trying to protect them both, and the grief would have destroyed him if he had failed.

Again he shuddered, and shook his head ruefully. Yes, he thought, gazing up at the star-lit sky. Sleep would not come to him anytime soon. Instead, it was the nightmare images that haunted him, chilled him to the bone. Nightmares that would make any man tremble. He could bear his own death, but not that of his wife or child.

He did try to sleep, but found himself tossing and turning, those terrifying images trapped in his mind, taunting him. He bit his lip to stop from crying out; any sound from him would awaken Anna, and he did not want to awaken Anna. She had borne so much during the past five days, and it would be cruel of him to wake her from much needed rest. And so he lay awake and alone, unable to sleep, feeling a terror and anguish set in deep in his soul.

oOo

They crossed into opal territory the following week. It was a relief to at last leave the wasteland that was Thaegan's territory; as they marched over the thorns that marked the border of Thaegan's land, Jarred felt a strange lightening of heart. It had often seemed to him that the very air of that territory stank with evil and despair; the despair of a people suffering under a double tyranny, and the evil of the monsters that caused it. So although there was still that deep-set fear of what awaited them in that grey land which loomed ever closer, Jarred felt more content than he had for many days.

The fever had sapped his strength considerably, much to his dismay. Now especially, it was imperative that the Grey Guards be given no reason for them to leave him behind—it would mean forcing Anna to travel to the Shadowlands alone and that he could not do. Not on his life. The mere thought of Anna continuing on without him was enough to bring back the horror-filled, bloody dreams that had haunted him for so long during his fever.

Slowly, he had been regaining his strength; however, every now and again he would stumble, and feel the whip flick at his ankles, in a throb of pain, almost causing him to gasp aloud. And he would wonder, Is this the end? He almost expected to collapse as Anna had done, on that rainy day filled with pain and blood and tears, out of sheer exhaustion. He did not, across all the days that had passed since he had awoken from the fever; he was not so weak, after all, he thought wryly. A part of him wished that he was, however—it would be easier, simpler than trekking into the Shadowlands and being brought into an archaic arena to die fighting a monstrous beast. It would be much less frightening, as well, and less agonising, to be sure. But it would mean leaving Anna to meet her own fate alone, and that thought was unacceptable to him.

They had settled into a pattern—himself, Anna, the Jalis girl Jenara and the woman Kaldi. Each day they would march across the barren land until the Grey Guards ordered a halt. It was tiring and grueling, but unavoidable, for they all knew the penalty of lagging behind and none of them were willing to risk it for their own reasons. During the nights, they would sit together in an exhausted huddle, sharing what rations of food and drink they had with each other. In the early days of this routine, they were all too exhausted to speak—not to mention unwilling, Jarred thought privately. To speak would mean revealing their hearts to their companions, and caring and respecting each other more as a result. When marching toward an arena of death, such things became abhorrent, for who would want to witness the death of one they had come to care for on this long journey? It was bad enough that he had Anna to worry about—Jenara and Kaldi had had no one but themselves, until they had met Jarred and Anna. It was no wonder that they sat together, close-mouthed, looking warily at one another in the darkness of the night.

It was something Anna seemed determined to combat. That first night, the night after Jarred's fever had broken, she had attempted to make conversation with Kaldi, gently asking how she had found the march and whether she had been injured or felt ill. Kaldi replied, in a careful and halting tone, refusing to look any of them in the eye. Jenara answered more readily, her eyes bright with the strength and hope of youth, her lips curving into a slight smile. Yes, she found the march hard and tiring, but she was not hurt. Jarred had to admire her for it a little, this determination she seemed to have to survive. It was to be expected of course; she was Jalis, and the Jalis were the fiercest, most capable and determined fighters among the seven tribes of Deltora. It was only sorcery of the Shadow Lord that had defeated them at the last, on the day of the invasion. They had fought valiantly, but were no match for the brutal Grey Guards. It was the one thing he had managed to discover from Jenara.

She had only been five years old, she said as they sat together on one night after the march, when the Shadow Lord invaded. The Grey Guards—and others, shape-shifting demons- had come into Jaliad, destroying everything in their way. It was clear what their intent was. The Jalis had fought back, with all their might, but it was no use. The Shadow Lord's army had won.

'They killed many, and took the rest away.' She leaned forward and lowered her voice, as if wary of being overheard. 'My brother was one of those who escaped,' she said. 'He was in the battle, but fell and was thought dead. But afterward, when it was over, he woke up and found everyone gone, except us. And he came back for me and we left.' Her face glowed as she spoke, and Jarred thought, she truly adores this brother of hers, it is plain; how must she feel now that she is separated from him, that she is marching toward death alone?

Not for the first time, Jarred felt the mingled relief and sadness that Jasmine was not with them.

This was all Jenara said on the subject. When asked of her own origins, Kaldi simply said that she had come from a village in Mere territory that had become barren and poverty-stricken from drought and debt, and that she had been forced to flee to find work elsewhere. She had been captured while walking to a close-by village. It made Jarred pity her more than he had already. Gradually, however, hesitant, abrupt answers and wary expressions gave way to shy smiles and longer answers said in warmer tones. It was a gift his wife had, Jarred thought with wonder, to be able to bring out the warmth and happiness in a person. It made him love her all the more for it.

As they crossed into opal territory he felt Anna clutch at his hand, and he knew what she was thinking. Every step they made took them ever closer to the Shadowlands border, and their eventual fates. He felt a shiver run down his spine, and did not suppress it. He held Anna's hand in his own, and returned her gentle squeeze, and felt a foreboding he had never had before.

That night, their party made camp on the side of a dirt road, under a starless sky. As the rest of the party fell into slumber, Jarred lay wide-awake, Anna's body comfortingly warm in his arms. Images scoured his mind, making sleep impossible. Of the fear in Anna's eyes as she fell to the ground, unable to rise as the Grey Guards descended upon them. Of the fear in his own rapidly-beating heart, at the sight of the blisters trained on his wife, ready to be thrown in a moment's notice. Of the memory of harsh voices raised in argument, his own among them, desperate, wild. A voice saying above all the rest, 'He is for the Shadow Arena, you fools! We'll be for the rubbish pile if any more ticks die before they reach it.' The feel of the blood dripping down his back. The searing pain as the whip cut into his skin with agonising precision. Anna's sobs as they clutched at one another in the rain, and the gentle, cool feel of her hand as it stroked his burning skin.

He closed his eyes, and prayed for sleep to come quickly.

oOo

His prayers were not answered. Sleep was agonizingly slow to come, that night, and during the nights that followed. Dark nights, ice-cold and harsh on the body. Were he without the thoughts that taunted him, he knew that he still would not have been able to sleep, with the winds whipping at his back, chilling him to the bone. He, Anna, Jenara and Kaldi huddled together for warmth, shivering, too numbed by cold to speak and too hollow to even try. It suited Jarred well enough—he did not want to listen to mindless conversation and false cheerfulness. Why put on a smiling face at the thought of death? They were all going to die soon enough, and Jarred was tired of pretending otherwise.

Even as the rest of their party drifted into sleep, he lay awake, waiting, fearing, wondering. What would it be like? Would it be quick? For Anna's sake, he hoped so. For himself, it did not matter. If Anna died the agony in his soul would be so great that it would be naught what they did to his body. Whether he died quickly and painlessly or slowly and agonizingly, the result would be the same. He could only pray that Anna could survive, and if not, that she could die without undue pain.

He thought also about Crian. What would the old man think now, at Jarred's choices? Would he condemn him for putting Anna in such danger, despite the fact that the royal family would have died without their sacrifice? Jarred rather thought he would have, though he had to understand the necessity of their sacrifice. Without the royal family Deltora would have been lost, and if the royal family had fled as originally planned they would most certainly have been killed, either from starvation and cold or from the Grey Guards who were stationed along the western road to Tora, waiting to pounce on any sight of a man and a woman with child. It stilled chilled Jarred to think that if he and Anna had taken that path, they would have been slaughtered. It was only thanks to the forewarning of the Toran missive that they had not chosen to continue.

Jarred knew that Crian would have understood what he and Anna had done—he was a good man, for all his gruff exterior, and cared deeply for Deltora. However, he also care deeply about his grand-daughter, and Jarred knew that Crian would have been furious at the danger their choice had placed Anna in. Anna had been the apple of his eye, the only thing he had left of his dead son. He would never tolerate any harm befalling her. He and Crian were alike in that way, Jarred thought. It always hurt both of them to see Anna in pain.

Crian had done all he could to see Anna safe from harm. Vagabonds lurked in alleyways, hiding during the day and preying on hapless victims after nightfall, when they could not be so easily seen and apprehended. Not that they could have been captured at all, Jarred thought. The people of Del were so weary and so thread-bare that they were barely managing to survive and feed their families. They had no time left in their meager existence to hunt down the vagrants who attacked and tormented young children unfortunate to come into their path. They could only warn, and pay heed.

It had been on one of Jarred's days off from the forge. He had been reluctant to leave, for Crian was growing frailer and frailer with each year that passed and Jarred was finding himself to be needed more and more to assist the old blacksmith, but both Crian and Anna had insisted. Anna especially, he thought with amusement at the recollection. She had wanted his company during a short walk to the market square, she claimed. Jarred could have told her that Crian knew of their relationship and was fine with it; he was sure Anna knew. But Anna seemed to prefer discretion when it came to her grandfather.

They walked quickly together along the streets, holding hands, laughing when they stumbled over each other's feet in their desperation to get to somewhere where they could have some privacy. They found at last a deserted alleyway, dim in the light of the fading sun, and crept into the entrance.

Immediately his mouth found hers; he could feel her hands circling, gripping the sides of his head, pulling his body closer, closer against her own. His heart hammered in his chest; he could feel the blood roaring in his ears, and Anna's soft gasps reverberating against him. It felt as if his soul was on fire—if kissing felt like this, he thought dazedly, he could not imagine how love-making would be like.

It only lasted a few moments, but it felt like a lifetime. Finally they both pulled away, reluctantly, conscious of the darkening shadows in the corners of the alleyway. Dusk was coming. Crian expected them to return before nightfall, and he was fearsome when he was disobeyed. But before he turned to lead Anna out of the alley, he heard her voice, hesitant and full of love. 'Jarred, I love you.' He also heard the unspoken question: Do you love me too?

He wanted to laugh, at the thought that she needed to ask such a question. There was no question. He loved her so much, and had for some years already. He felt his heart swell to bursting, and he just managed to say, 'I love you too.'

It was as they were turning the corner that they appeared: two men, dressed raggedly, swaggering around as if they could not find their feet properly on the cobblestones. Their swivelling, wild eyes turned this way and that, and finally fastened on Jarred and Anna—or more specifically Anna.

'Look, it's a girl, and a kid with her,' one slurred.

Anna froze, and Jarred could feel her fingers tense within his grip. The man laughed. 'You want a piece of this, sweetheart?' He lurched toward her in a drunken wobble, but Anna was quicker—before any of them—even Jarred—knew it, she had ducked away, out of grasping reach. Just as quickly, Jarred grabbed the first man he saw and dealt him a blow in the stomach. The man reeled back, stunned. From behind him he heard the second vagrant cry out, and turned just in time to see blood welling from a slight wound in the man's neck, and the sight of Anna pulling the crimson stained knife away with shaking fingers. Before the two vagrants could recover, he grabbed Anna's hand and they ran, trembling, the rest of the way back to the forge, only stopping once they were within its gates.

'Are you alright?' he said to Anna, trying to keep the fear from showing clear in his voice. If they had harmed her…

Anna looked up at him with tear-stained but calm eyes, and nodded. 'I am alright, Jarred,' she said shakily. She glanced at the knife still clutched in her hand, and shuddered. 'I have never needed to use this before—I have… not done this before. I do not think I am suited for fighting.'

Trembling, she leaned into Jarred's embrace and he held her until her body was still against his.

She was right, Jarred thought ruefully. She was not suited for fighting. She was meant to heal. But now fate had brought them to this point in time, on a journey which would end in the place of their Enemy, where there would be no place for healers, only fighters and slaves. And Jarred had brought them there. No matter what else happened, he would always know that he was to blame for their current situation. If he had not convinced Anna to take refuge in the Forests of Silence seven years before, the Grey Guards would never have found them and captured them, leaving their daughter to fend for herself or die. And if he had not convinced Anna to leave the forge… well, that was something he did not regret, even now. It had been necessary to give up their place for the royal family—without Endon and Sharn's child the kingdom would be under the Shadow forever, and their cause would have been lost before it had even begun. No, he thought. He did not regret sacrificing everything for Endon and his family. It was only the consequences of those actions that he regretted.

Briefly, Jarred wondered how Endon, Sharn and their child were faring in Del. Better than himself and Anna, certainly. As far as he knew, no one in Del had any inkling that the real Jarred and Anna had fled Del in place of the King and Queen on the night of the Shadow Lord's invasion, allowing Endon and Sharn to hide in safety in the forge. Who on earth would suspect it? No one knew what Endon and Sharn looked like when they were not in ceremonial dress and wearing painted faces. After seven years, no person would be able to say with surety that they were the King and Queen of Deltora. It was one thing that Jarred was grateful for in the bleak turn his life had taken. What did it matter if he and Anna were marching to the Shadowlands and their deaths, if Endon, Sharn and the heir to the Belt were safe?

He did not know when he fell asleep, but it seemed like a few moments afterward that he found himself being shaken awake by an anxious Anna. Stifling groans—his head was throbbing agonizingly to the beat of his heart—he hauled himself to his feet, and readied himself for the day's march.

It was hours later when he heard rapid footsteps beside him, and a voice saying, 'You look tired.'

He turned to see the girl Jenara walking beside him, staring up at him with intense eyes. What was she doing there? He had thought she was with Anna, who was somewhere among the people behind them, with Kaldi. Jarred had initially been at Anna's side, but had lost sight of her—he could not recall how, there had been so much chaos in the morning as the march was beginning. Now there was Jenara beside him, looking up at him almost accusingly from her small height. What could she want?

He soon found out. Jenara said, 'Anna is worried about you. I can see it. '

'And what do you wish me to do?' he said dryly.

'Talk to Anna,' she said.

She walked away, and Jarred was left wondering at her temerity. Perhaps it was because of her Jalis heritage, or the way she was raised- he recalled her mentioning that she had traveled with her brother before being captured- but it was difficult to remember at times that she was only twelve years old. Would Jasmine be like that, at that age, if she survived so long?

He and Anna would never know for sure, he thought ruefully, and his heart ached to think of it. They did not even know if Jasmine was still alive. Perhaps she was dead. It was most likely that she was dead. Jarred's heart ached even more at the thought. He did not know what he could endure better- the thought of Jasmine dead, or of her alone and fending for herself, without parents or friends to guide her. Either way, it was on his head. If they had not settled in the Forests to live, none of this would have happened.

That night as they lay together, Anna finally spoke. He knew that she had been wanting to for some time, but she could not find the words. What words could she speak, which would be able to reassure him? They were both going to die, one after the other. Their daughter was most likely dead already, and if she was not she soon would be. How could a seven-year-old survive in a forest which had haunted the dreams and thoughts of people of Del for decades?

'What is troubling you, Jarred?' she whispered. She looked up at him, eyes worried and full of love. Love for him. And Jasmine. He recalled the heartbreak that she had felt upon leaving First Wood, and wondered: if they had not been together on that day, would she still have been taken? He did not think so. If they had not been together, Jasmine would at least still have her mother. And he would be alone. He did not know which he could have stood better.

He did not know how he looked, but from Anna's anxious expression he could tell that it was not good. He did not feel alright. He was exhausted, afraid, and furious and resigned. Afraid for them all. Resigned at the knowledge of his imminent death. Furious at the thought of Anna's. She did not deserve any of this, any of the heartbreak they were both feeling. Why did it have to be this way?

Your fault, all of it, a voice echoed inside his head. He closed his eyes to the immense pain in his heart. She had trusted him, and he had led her to this.

'Anna, I am sorry,' he said, his throat tightening.

'Whatever for?' In the darkness, he could see Anna frown slightly, even as he could feel her fingers brush the side of his face gently.

'For this,' and he looked up at her, gesturing toward the sleeping Grey Guards. 'If we had not gone to the Forests to live…' If he had not convinced Anna to hide in First Wood all those years ago, they would not have been found by the Grey Guards and captured, leaving Jasmine to fend for herself. Anna would not be travelling to a brutal, agonising death with him.

Anna blinked up at him. For a long moment she did not speak—long enough that the heavy silence between them became increasingly uncomfortable. When at last Jarred could not stand it any longer, she finally said, 'Why would you say such a thing?'

She sounded genuinely puzzled, and he almost laughed at the bitter humor of it. How could she not know? He loved her, and their daughter, so, so much, and the thought of anything happening to them was enough to haunt him during the days and nights to come. It had been his idea to settle in the Forests of Silence, and his idea to take Endon and Sharn's place. The thought that it had resulted in this for his own family was almost too much for him to bear. When it came down to it, he could stand his own death, but not Anna's or Jasmine's.

'It is true,' he said, his voice rough with pain. 'And you know it as well as I. If we had not gone to the Forests to live, this would not have happened. We would still be a family. Jasmine would still have her parents. She would not be alone in First Wood, and possibly dead.' He could feel his voice break at his words; he saw the blood drain from Anna's face. Immediately he regretted his harsh words, regretted reminding her of their loss and Jasmine's slim chance of survival. But there was no help for it. It was as if a dam had burst inside of his heart—the words flowed out of his mouth like a flood, and he could not halt them.

'It was my idea to leave Del. If we had not…' If they had not, he, Anna and Jasmine would have been safe in the forge, but Endon, Sharn and the heir to Deltora would have been lost, destroyed by the evil that lurked in the countryside. It was something he would never have been able to live with, the thought of his oldest friend and the heir to Deltora perishing in the wilderness, dooming Deltora to an eternity of the Shadow Lord's tyranny. He knew he would never have stood by and let that happen, no matter what the cost to himself and Anna. Endon's child was Deltora's last and only hope, and had to be protected, even if it meant sacrificing all they had.

No matter what else happened to them both, Jarred knew that he would never regret giving up his and Anna's place in the forge to help Endon and Sharn. It was the only thing that they could have done—Endon and Sharn would never have survived a moment in the Deltoran countryside. All their lives they had relied on others to help them—they would never have been able to survive as he and Anna had. Taking their places had been the right choice, the only choice. His only regret and gnawing guilt was that it had brought this down upon his family.

'It was my idea to go to the Forests to live. If we had not, then this may never have happened. You would be safe, you and Jasmine.' He swallowed hard, and looked away, unable to face her any longer. It was because of him that she was marching toward a horrible fate, separated from the daughter they both loved and feared for now. How could she stand it, or him? Fate only knew that he could not.

He lay there, still as a statue except for the shudders that ran down the length of his spine.

And then he felt her grip his face with both hands, and turn it towards hers. He almost flinched at the chill of her touch and her almost-painful grasp, and willed himself not to break free.

She gazed at him for a long moment, and he could see the mixture of conflicting feelings that flickered through her eyes. There was shock, yes, and consternation as well, but also there was a deep sorrow and understanding which brought an unbearable ache to his heart.

He felt his eyes sting with the tears he could not unleash. Oh, Anna… His heart clenched. By fate, do not let me spend a single moment without her.

'Jarred,' she breathed. 'Jarred, none of it was your fault.'

'It is, and you know it,' he said bitterly. 'If we had chosen differently…'

If, if, if. There was no telling what they could have done differently; he only wished that they had.

Anna shook her head; her eyes were wild, he saw dimly, and her mouth a firm line. 'Stop it! It was not your fault. You did all that you could—we did what we had to. We were not to know that it would end like this. And even so, it does not matter, does it? Our daughter is safe. The'—and here she lowered her voice, glancing furtively toward where the Grey Guards slumbered—'the heir is safe. There is still hope, if not for us, but for Deltora. And Jasmine.' Her voice trembled, and his vision blurred to hear it. 'Our little one. We may never see her grow into a woman, but at the least we will know that she has a chance to do so. She has a chance to survive.'

'I have seen her in my dreams,' he whispered hoarsely. 'Bloody and broken and afraid. I cannot stand it.'

He felt her fingers stroke his cheek, and felt himself relax underneath her gentle touch. It had always been so; Anna could always soothe him. He did not know how, or why, but only that she could. And he was grateful for it every day of his life.

'They are just dreams, Jarred,' she said. 'It may not truly be so.'

'But it could be. She could be. And I cannot bear the thought of it.'

Tears sprang into his eyes unbidden, but he blinked them away. Tears were of no use to either of them now. But the ache in his heart remained, and he was not sure it would ever go away. He shuddered violently, and felt the fingers stroking his cheek increase in pace. Without thought, he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, sighing.

'Have faith,' Anna said quietly. Faith? he thought bitterly. It had been erased from his mind as surely as those images of blood and death had been seared into his brain. Nothing was left of it. How could he have faith, when so much had happened? He had lost his daughter, and would soon lose his wife, one way or another. And he would die himself. He did not mind that, as much as he minded the thought of harm coming to Anna and Jasmine. Harm had already come to them. He almost shuddered again to think of it.

'Trust in our daughter,' she said. 'You said yourself that she has a chance. We taught her everything we could. She is strong; she is a fighter, like you. Please, Jarred,' and his heart almost broke to hear the sob in her voice then, and the tears that shone in her eyes. 'Please, believe me. Jasmine will survive. She is too much like you not to. She will survive. So will I.'

'You cannot say that,' he said, his voice tight. 'You know where we will end.' The Shadowlands. The very name chilled him. A place of death and despair—a fitting stronghold for their hated Enemy.

'It does not matter,' Anna said. 'No matter what happens, I swear to you that I will be there. I will not leave you alone.'

'Anna…' He did not know when he had begun to weep, but now felt the wetness on his cheeks and streaming in his eyes. Gently she wiped the tears away, and he could feel his heart contract with each stroke of her fingers. By fate, he prayed, let us stay together. Do not let me live a moment without her.

'I would go mad if you were harmed,' he said. 'It would be the last thing I could stand.'

'I know,' and Anna cupped his cheek in one hand, smiling sadly. He did not need to hear her aloud to know that she felt the same at the thought of his own death. There was nothing they could do, however, he knew, except accept the path fate had placed them on.

Without thought, he buried his face in her hair, and breathed in the scent of her while he still could. Dimly, he felt Anna gather him to her, rocking him gently, holding him. It felt good, so good, to be held; usually, lately, he had been the one holding Anna. In her arms now, he felt a comfort and peace like he never would find anywhere else—a balm to his pain.

'I love you,' he heard his voice say, slurred and drowsy with sleep. He always would, even beyond death. There was no question of that.

'I love you too,' he heard Anna whisper in a cracking voice. 'I always will.'

He fell asleep to the sound of both their heartbeats intertwined together—alive, for now—and for the first time in a long while he did not dream of blood.


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The march continues. Jarred and Jenara work together to find a surprise gift for Anna.

They had been following the river for days now, ever since they had returned from Miller's Rise. A waste of a journey, Jenara thought, although it did delay their inevitable entry into the Shadowlands by some days. The Grey Guards had been wanting to collect more prisoners to make up for the ones they had already lost because of their carelessness on the march—their insistence that their party should walk during a heavy storm and their brutal ending of anyone too weak or exhausted or defiant to go on. It had cost them seven prisoners already, and they were clearly afraid that it would cost them more than that, once they returned to their Master's stronghold.

So they had travelled to that desolate place which had once been cheerful and bustling with people willing to trade and barter for goods and gold, but which now was desolate and full of despair. They had lost too many people to the poverty and famine which had swept over the land after the invasion, as well as to the Grey Guards who had taken advantage of their state, trading gold for supplies and slaves. The trades were unfair and brutal—one silver coin for every person, rope or piece of food exchanged—but these people were too down-trodden to care. Jenara recalled once visiting with her brother, long ago, and it saddened her that such a bright, hopeful place be reduced to this half-life.

The Guards had taken what they could, throwing fifteen silver coins into the mud coating the cobblestones of the village square, smiling maliciously at the obvious grief etched on the villagers' faces. These were their people that were being taken away, traded as if they were animals. It brought a fire into her soul to see it—they were good people, and did not deserve to be treated in such a way. She hated having to watch it. But there was nothing anyone of them could do to stop this, least of all herself, who were being taken to the Shadowlands to be slaughtered.

They had left Miller's Rise with five new additions to their party, the former seeming bedraggled, lost and hopeless amid the chaos their life had become. She did not bother to speak to any of them—they would be dead soon enough and it would only cause pain on both sides. She had sworn to never do that, from the very beginning of the march, but after meeting Anna it had become a lost cause.

She had not meant to befriend Anna, but there was something about the older woman which invited friendship and trust. Anna had approached her, first, had been so kind and understanding—almost motherly, in a way. Something inside of her had eased, then, and though she had told herself that she would not be taken in by Anna's overtures of friendship, she soon found herself meeting with Anna, talking with her, speaking of things she had only dared tell her brother.

She had spoken of Jaliad, of the poppies which her mother had lovingly tended there—her mother had loved to garden, perhaps because she was from the Plains and down-to-earth compared to the fiery Jalis spirit which was ever present in her husband and sons. And yet, there was always a strength about her, a fierce spark which could ignite at a moment's notice. Perhaps it was what had drawn her father toward her mother, forcing him to break the unspoken law of no marriage between Jalis and those who were not.

Her mother had had the heart of a Jalis. On that day, the day of the invasion, rather than sit tamely inside their home waiting for death to come, she had chosen to accompany her husband into battle against the Shadow Lord's creatures. She had paid the greatest price for that—Jenara had stumbled over her headless body as her brother dragged her from the town square and down the path leading away from Jaliad. Everywhere, bodies lay scattered, battered and broken, in pools of their own blood. Some were in worse shape than others—the Grey Guards had shown no mercy to their victims. Her brother had begged her not to look, but she had looked anyway. And what she had seen had been seared into her brain as painfully and firmly as wildfire. They had not seen their father's body, but Jenara knew that he had been among them. He was a true Jalis—he would never have allowed himself to be taken alive, as a slave, to the Shadowlands. The greatest wish of a Jalis was to die in battle, fighting for a noble cause; she recalled her brother telling her that, many times. Her father had believed it, and Jenara knew that he would have died before he let himself be captured by mere 'weaklings' and sent into forced slavery.

She was different from them, in that way. Yes, she did believe that to die fighting for a cause was good and noble, but she could not imagine herself rushing fearlessly into battle as her parents had done. Perhaps they had been afraid, but if they had been, they did not show it, going about their preparations for battle in a business-like manner. Her father had even cracked a joke, although his eyes had been grim. They had not shown the fear that she felt now, at the thought of dying. For it terrified her more than she could admit to herself, the thought of meeting her end in the Shadow Arena.

It would be an agonising, slow death, she knew, as did all the captives. The Grey Guards had taunted them enough about it. It almost shamed her, this fear. She was Jalis. She should be stronger than this, she thought. Her brother would have been full of confidence and determination, and would not have been defeated by fear, loss and homesickness. He would have continued to fight with all the ferocity of a Jalis warrior, even if it lead to a quicker death for him. She however did not have the heart to fight any longer. However long it took, she would die eventually, in the Shadowlands, whether she entered the Arena or not. No one had ever escaped from the Shadowlands; she would not be the first to do so.

They would all die in the Shadowlands—herself, Anna, Anna's husband Jarred and the woman Kaldi of the Mere, as well as those captured at Miller's Rise and others on the march. It was a sobering thought, but necessary to remember. She could not let herself become too close to the other prisoners, and form bonds that would end in death and tragedy. She had made that choice when she had befriended Anna and Kaldi, and did not regret it, but she could not do it again, for her sake and others. On her honour as a Jalis, she would go to her death at peace with the knowledge that no-one—except her brother—was left behind to grieve for her. And her brother would never know truly what had happened to her, so he would not be too filled with agony over her loss. That was good.

It was the only thing she could be grateful for now.

oOo

That night, they rested by the riverside, a little way from the rest of the party. Jarred was glad that the Guards had allowed them that, at least; they most likely were confident enough that the heaviness and clanking noise of the chains would prevent their prisoners from escaping. It allowed them a moment's respite, which they both cherished. Respites were rare, in the place they were now and in the place they were going to go to.

'How do you think Jasmine is?' Anna's voice startled him from a slight doze. He opened his eyes to the sight of her dear face, framed by tangled brown curls, holding her heart in her extraordinary green eyes. A hand touched his arm, small and almost silvery in the light of the moon. 'Do you think she is alright? Do you think she has found a safe place to sleep? It is dangerous close to the forest floor…' She shook her head, her eyes wide and glittering with the tears Jarred knew she would not let fall.

He did not bother telling her that it was just as dangerous in the treetops as it was near the forest floor. All parts of the forest held its own dangers; no part should be taken for granted. Anna should have known that well by now. But he understood her fear of the forest floor. Once, she had almost lost her husband to it; she could not bear to think of her daughter falling prey to it.

In First Wood, Jarred recalled, she had been extremely protective of Jasmine, especially after his run-in with the Wenn. Not that she had smothered Jasmine, or restricted her in any way—Jarred almost smiled now at the thought of their daughter abiding gracefully by anything that prevented her from exploring the forest and touching the trees and peering at the strange assortment of animals that lived there. It could not be done. And Anna could not bear to do such a thing to Jasmine, to take away what was clearly her heart's joy.

But still he could see her fear and protectiveness surface when she lectured Jasmine on the dangers of the forest floor and warned her against venturing onto the Wenn Del path. He could see it in her voice and eyes, in the tremble of her body which she fought to hide from her daughter. And he understood—Jasmine's safety was the most important thing to both of them, and they both wanted to see her live to grow into a woman. The thought of Jasmine's death at the hands of a beast was a canker in the soul, even then. Jasmine had to survive.

Without Anna's knowledge—for she would have forbade it, out of fear for Jasmine's safety—he had taken Jasmine to the forest floor, to the places of danger she had heard of but had never seen herself. It was so important that she knew the dangers of the forest deep in her bones, and not just from her lessons in the tree-house. Jasmine needed to be able to use her instincts and bolt quickly at any sign of danger—she was too small to fight anything with success, so speed was her best defence. And the slightest hesitation, caused by slowness at recognising warning signs, could mean her death, if she were faced with a dangerous enemy. She had to be able to spot the signs quickly, and flee instinctually within seconds of realisation.

So he had shown her the tracks certain animals made in the dust of the forest floor, and the snapping and crunching of twigs which denoted a beast's movement. He showed her, from a faraway enough perch, a Silence Spider's web, and they had watched as a bug was lured into the web and eaten in a matter of moments. Gruesome, but necessary to see. He could not risk Jasmine stumbling on it by accident and being bitten as a result. Silence Spiders attacked anything that came too close to their webs. He had shown her the tracks the Wenn made when they were a hunting in the forest, and the dents in the shrubbery that were usually noticeable then. To Jasmine's credit, she did not seem frightened by any of it, and beheld it all with a wide-eyed fascination. Pride had swelled in Jarred to see it, despite it all, and when she looked up at him and said, 'It all so pretty. Can we do it again?' he had to hide a laugh and tell her that yes, they could if she wished to, but that she must not venture there on her own at any time or her mother would have both their heads—hers for plunging head-first into danger and his for planting the idea in her mind. Jasmine nodded, her small face earnest, and Jarred hoped that she would heed his warnings, and remember everything he had shown her on their expedition. He rather thought she would—he could see that her expression was turned inward, and she was mulling over the day's events.

'I do believe so,' Jarred told Anna now. 'You must not worry for her, Anna. She will be alright.'

'She is all alone,' Anna said softly. 'Without friend or family. Whatever will become of her?'

What indeed? Jarred could not bear to think of it, nor did he see any point to. They would never find out Jasmine's eventual fate; to think about it now would just cause them to feel fear and uncertainty for Jasmine, which they did not need right now. They needed all their strength to get by and survive and keep hope alive. They could not dwell on anything which undermined that. Though Jarred had to admit that it was difficult, so difficult, to do so. Always, at the back of his mind lurked thoughts of Jasmine, pictures which haunted his dreams, and questions which he was not sure he wanted answered. Did his daughter live still? How did she fare? Was she happy, or at least content?

'Perhaps she will befriend the trees,' he said lightly, though his heart twisted agonisingly in his chest. Jasmine was not a topic he felt comfortable discussing at the best of times. Quickly he changed the subject. 'The weather is fair; there should be good marching on the morrow.'

'Yes,' Anna whispered. 'I do hope so.' Her lips curved into a smile as she moved to rest her head on Jarred's chest. 'I do hope so.'

'So do I,' Jarred whispered back to her, as her breathing slowed into a quiet, even pattern. 'By the Belt, so do I.'

oOo

'You look hungry,' Kaldi said to Jenara as they sat together under the scanty shade of a large, half-dead tree which had shed its leaves in preparation for a winter which had long since arrived.

Its leaves could still be seen scattered amid the sparse grass—Jenara could see the glints of colour from where she sat with her head on Kaldi's shoulder. Gold and orange and yellow; like sunshine, almost, she thought. They stood out among the dismal browns, greys and green that made up the hue of what was left of the land's shrubbery, and brought a spot of beauty to the world again. Her breath caught at the sight. She had seen such gold leaves before, in Jaliad, in the autumn; her mother had placed one in the palm of her hand and folded her fingers so that they stroked the coarse covering. 'This is the land,' she had said. 'This is where we come from, and where we will eventually return.' She did not know how old she had been, then—three, four? Old enough to have a glimmer of a memory of it. And it was all she could remember, her mother's strong, melodious voice and her fingers, pressing the leaf into her hand and beginning her lessons in herbalism and nature. She remembered better her brother, who had continued her lessons after her mother's death. He had told her, long ago, that their mother had believed that the sight of autumn leaves was a blessing, for it meant that the cycle of life continued unbroken. There was still hope in the world, as long as the cycle continued.

Jenara gazed at the leaves, felt her eyes burn and sting, but did not wait for the tears. She had wept enough; to weep now would be of no use to her. What she needed to focus on was not on the past and the longing for a long-dead mother, but on her present situation. She was trapped, imprisoned, on the march to slavery in the Shadowlands. She could not escape, that was clear as anything. The chains weighed down on her too much, and although she could still walk without stumbling on the march, the clatter that usually accompanied walking in chains would awaken the Grey Guards if she attempted to flee the area as they slept at night. A dozen blisters would hit her before she had even taken three steps away from the party; nothing would be gained except a grisly, painful death. But if she were to die in any case, why would it matter if she was killed attempting an escape? She did not know, except that her stomach clenched at the thought of the agony of such a death. Surely it was better to die in the Shadowlands against a beast, than face a death so shameful and agonising.

She barely heard Kaldi repeated her question, and barely heard her own reply: 'I am not hungry.' A lie, and a terrible one at that; she did not have the strength to force a convincing tone into her voice. Her stomach rumbled loudly, revealing the falsehood, and she looked away. Without a word Kaldi dumped the remnants of her barely eaten ration at her feet and she wanted to tell her not to waste her only source of food on her, when they both knew that they would not receive another meagre portion until the next night. If she was gaunt and pale, then Kaldi was even more so, Kaldi who had already given up her ration for her twice before. She desperately wanted to tell Kaldi to eat it herself and not worry about her, but could not stand against that scent, once it assailed her nostrils. Feeling the hunger stab her in the pit of her stomach, she took the ration and gulped it down, forcing herself to chew before swallowing. It was only bread, precious little of it that it was, and covered with dirt and grime, but to her it was a delicacy. She had not tasted anything quite so appetising in weeks.

'Thank you,' she said politely, after she had finished with the crumbs. 'I will share my meal with you tomorrow night.' It was fair and honourable; she was indebted to Kaldi for this act of kindness and debts such as these had to be repaid in good measure. She also knew what it cost the older woman, to sacrifice her ration despite knowing that she would starve without it. Kaldi had done her a great service; she had to give something back to her, as little as it might be.

Kaldi shrugged and said nothing to this, but her expression was message enough. Think nothing of it, Jalis child. You are the future. Closing her eyes, she turned away and settled against the bark of the tree, and Jenara watched as she eased into a quiet slumber. She had said that, every time she had thanked her for an act of kindness done for her. Jenara did not know her reasons. She only knew that it reminded her of her mother and that was all that really mattered to her.

A short distance away, Jarred and Anna lay curled together, the evenness of their breaths signalling that they too were asleep. The look on their faces was one of complete peace, something which settled her deep in her soul. Nothing was worse than the sight of others waking in terror from the grips of some nightmare, or the thrashing and cries of those still deeply under. She had seen it too many times already, from Jarred especially. It still frightened her to recall those few nights in which he had been gripped with fever; she had never seen so much blood and suffering before, and she could not help but curl into herself and cover her ears to block the screams. It was cowardly of her, perhaps, she thought, but it had to be done. She could not focus on survival if she allowed the fear and hopelessness of the other captives eat at her.

Somewhere far above her, an owl hooted. Its shadow swooped, dark against the silvery moon. Perhaps it was her mother, as Kaldi had told her. Her mother in her unearthly form, come to guard her against the evil that had encircled her. She had not left her—neither had her father or her brother. Perhaps they were all there, somewhere, giving her strength and courage, and protection.

Comforted greatly by this, she closed her eyes, curled her body against Kaldi's, and let sleep take her.

oOo

She was startled awake before dawn, by a shaking, so hard that it brought her to wakefulness but not so hard that it truly hurt or rattled her. It could not be a Grey Guard, was her first muddled thought. A Grey Guard would not have held back like this; they lived on the pain of others. It could not have been Kaldi—the older woman did not have the physical strength for such a thing. Who else could it be, who would bother awakening her before dawn in such a fashion?

She opened her eyes to see Jarred looking down at her, his dark eyes intent on her face. He said nothing as she hauled herself to her feet, swaying slightly as she stood. She blinked rapidly and fought to hold back a yawn, before replying to his ungraceful awakening of her. 'What is it you want of me?' Despite it all, she could hear a touch of annoyance in her voice, for all she had taken pains to hide it. What did the man want which was so important that he must take her from her much needed—and much desired—rest?

She frowned at him, but he seemed unfazed by her mood.

'I need your help,' he said abruptly.

Her help? 'Why?' she asked, both at once curious and suspicious. Although she had a healthy respect for the man, the two of them had never been exceedingly friendly toward each other—they tolerated each other and that was it. It was Anna they both cared for. Jarred knew it as well as she. If Jarred was now asking for her help, he must truly have been desperate. She could not imagine him coming voluntarily to her if there were any other choice about it.

Though Jenara had tried to hide it from herself, she had to admit that she thought of Anna as almost a mother to her. Kaldi, as well. It was ridiculous—she barely knew Anna and Kaldi, having only met them some weeks before. Pointless, as well, for they would all die eventually in the Shadowlands, in a gladiator's arena. But the urges of the heart could not be ignored. She had come to care about Anna, in her own way, and Kaldi and Jarred as well.

'Anna is unhappy,' Jarred said grimly. 'I can see it, though she tries to hide it from me. She misses our daughter, and fears for her. She fears what awaits us in the Shadowlands, and what will happen to us there.' He looked away, and swallowed convulsively, and Jenara could see a hint of the pain he tried to hide. When he turned to her again, however, his eyes were filled with a bleak determination. 'I cannot bring back her daughter, or change our circumstances. But I can give her a piece of happiness for her to cherish, in the days to come.'

'And you wish me to help you find a gift for her,' Jenara surmised. Jarred nodded, approval in his eyes at her quick understanding. Well and so, she thought. It would not be any difficulty, and she did care about Anna. Doing such a thing for her would be a pleasure. And Jarred was right—Anna did indeed look like a gaunt, pale ghost of herself, and it saddened Jenara to see it. Anna had always been so kind and warm toward her, even when Jenara herself spurned her attempts at true friendship. It felt wrong, to see Anna this way, all sad and ghost-like.

Even so, thought the more practical part of her mind, there should be something in it for herself. Favours and debts of honour worked both ways. One could not do deeds for others without expecting something in return. However much she cared for Anna, she had to be sure that this proposed enterprise would not impact negatively upon herself.

It would be possibly dangerous. Grey Guards had sharp senses and would wake if there was any suspicious sounds they did not like—such as chains clanking in an overly loud or long fashion. If she was caught, she would be dead in an instant, with no warning whatsoever to prepare herself. They would shoot, and she would fall, blazing in agony. A shameful death—not the sort she wanted for herself.

She suppressed a shudder, and met Jarred's eyes. His were determined and slightly regretful; he knew what he was asking of her, but however did not waver in his decision to plead for her help.

She thought of Anna again, who was so like her own mother in many ways. Anna, who had shown her kindness, and love, and hope. What measure were the risks to herself if this venture helped the other woman so much?

'So, will you do it?' He looked at her intently, waiting for her answer. After a slight hesitation, she gave him one.

'I will do it,' she said slowly.

'At what price?'

She hesitated a moment, before saying, 'None.'

'None?' He stared at her, with surprise clear in his eyes. Clearly, he had not expected that. Who did he think she was, a monster who would ignore another person's suffering?

She met his eyes, and shook her head. 'None,' she repeated. 'I am Jalis. It is the honourable thing to do. There is no price. But know that if I do this for you, I have the right to ask something of you, of a time of my choosing.'

He nodded. 'That is fair,' he agreed. 'So, you will help me?'

'Yes,' Jenara said. 'Have you thought of a gift for her?'

He gave her a curt nod.

'What is it?'

He told her, and she had to smile. It was a fitting gift, and one that would please Anna the most. Of course, as her husband, Jarred was in the best position to know what Anna would like. She was a healer; a gift of herbs would make her ecstatic.

'And you wish me to help you find some?'

Jarred nodded. 'It is the only thing that would truly cheer her, aside from… what we left behind.' He swallowed hard, at that, and his jaw tightened. 'I cannot move about quietly without alerting the Guards, but you can. And it would help Anna. If you are truly willing.'

So, she thought. He had doubts of her sincerity, which was no surprise. She herself was not sure of what she had just said she would do. It seemed like madness, to risk herself for another person when she should be keeping to herself, trying to survive. And yet, she would die anyway, eventually, in the Shadowlands. What did it matter if she risked her life now, if it were for a good cause? Her brother had told her time and again that the greatest wish of a Jalis was to die in battle, fighting for a noble cause. Surely this was one such? And still… she fought to suppress a shiver. Still, she was afraid. She did not want to die yet.

Despite this, she looked at Jarred, and told him, 'I have already told you that I will do it. Jalis do not break vows.'

Jarred's eyes flickered at that, and he frowned slightly, as if he were attempting to decipher something. Then the lines on his forehead smoothed away and he shook his head, as Jenara stared in confusion.

'They do not,' he agreed. 'And you are a Jalis.'

There was a moment of silence between them then, so awkward that Jenara found herself saying quickly, 'We should plan. The… what we will do.' She clamped her lips tightly together, to stop them from trembling. Not that she was afraid—the last vestiges of fear had been replaced with a thrumming anticipation—but more nervous at the thought of discovery. It was needless, she told herself—she had grown adept at moving quietly and quickly through thick bushland since long before she had been captured by the Grey Guards and begun this march to the Shadowlands. There was no need to worry. If there were, surely Jarred of all people would not ask this of her.

'Yes,' Jarred said just as quickly.

He sat down beside her, leaning against the trunk of the tree, and they began to plan.

oOo

The plan was simple. The plan was good. Jenara could see it clearly; so could Jarred, or so she thought. Then why did she have an uneasy feeling in the pit of her belly?

It was decided that Jenara would slip away from the party at night, to search for a herb-patch. Not this night, but one of the following. She had been adamant about that. She could not go do this thing unprepared—it would be madness. There had to be time, time to speak to Kaldi, time to scour the land properly, in search of the greenery and moist soil that herbs and medicinal plants could grow in. This soil was too dry and cracking; a result of famine and drought which had plagued the area not even a year before. It would—hopefully—improve as they moved ever west-ward, for the western Plains land had not been as affected by the drought as the east. Her venture could not start until then.

She had told Kaldi of what she intended, soon after Jarred had left her and the Guards were stirring. The woman had frowned, and shaken her head. 'He should not use you like this. Why can he not do it himself?'

'He—he is too big; he would wake the Guards with the noise of his footsteps. I am smaller; I can do it better than he.' Jenara spoke with as much confidence as she could, although her heart was hammering as loudly as a drum.

Kaldi shook her head again and sighed. 'That is no good reason. You are young; you have your life ahead of you. He should not ask this of you without good cause, and you should not do it without knowing whether you are needlessly risking your life.' She did not look at Jenara, but Jenara could see her body tremble, and knew that she meant what she said. 'You should demand the truth from him. Is he being lazy and fearful, or does he truly need your help because something is stopping him from doing it himself?'

'I…' Jenara faltered. 'I do not know. I know only what he told me. It must be enough.' But even as she spoke the words, she knew that Kaldi was right—it was not enough. Yes, Jarred may want her help, but why could he not do it himself? She had never known the man to be lazy, or let fear consume him so much that he could not do what needed to be done. He had seemed so strong, these past weeks since she had met him and Anna. A man with the heart of a Jalis, he was. Jenara had seen him whipped and ill with fever and tormented by dreams, and yet he had survived, through sheer determination. No, she decided. Whatever was stopping Jarred, it was not fear or laziness.

'You are right, Kaldi,' she said aloud. 'It is not enough.'

Kaldi merely smiled, and said nothing. And indeed, there was no time left for conversation, for the Guards were leaping to their feet and signalling the beginning of the march with a flash of their whips and harsh shouts. 'Ruddy ticks! Move it!' Quickly, Jenara hauled herself to her feet, and held out her arm to help Kaldi stand, before the Guards could harass them for slowing the party down. Her mind worked rapidly. She would have to find time to speak to Jarred during the march, to demand the whole truth from him. She could not go on without knowing for certain that her help was needful.

oOo

It was past midday when she finally found him, trudging tiredly over the grass amid a small group of captives. Anna was nowhere to be found. What luck! Jenara did not question it, but immediately weaved through the crowd to his side, and spoke her piece. 'You have not told me all,' she accused him. 'You are keeping something from me.'

He jerked his head, startled, and looked down at her. 'Jenara,' he murmured in greeting. 'If I have not told you all, I have a good reason, you must trust me on that. I promise you, I would never ask you to do this without just cause.'

'Then tell me. Now. I must know why, before I go into danger for you. Is it because you are too afraid? Or can you not be bothered? Or is it something more than that?'

Anger kindled in his eyes. 'You dare accuse me of such things?'

'Yes,' she said. 'I do. I will not help you if I am not truly needed. I need to know the truth.'

For a long moment he gazed at her; finally, he nodded. 'Alright. I will tell you.' He gave a sigh, and continued. 'It is as I said, before. I am too big, and would make enough noise to wake all of the Guards, for all I have learnt to tread lightly in the past. You are smaller, and would attract less attention. But you are right—there is more to it than that.' He hesitated, and Jenara waited silently until he spoke again. 'I am… being watched. Not all the time, but for a good amount. I cannot move without the Guards seeing, and suspecting. And I cannot risk it. If I die, Anna would be alone. I could not bear that.'

He was speaking the truth; Jenara could see it in his eyes. Part of her understood, and accepted it. But still… 'Why did you not tell me this before?' she demanded.

Jarred smiled wryly. 'I thought that it was obvious. You were there, when it happened. You saw what happened afterward. Why would they not watch? They need as many prisoners as possible for the Shadow Arena, and they will not let any fall through their fingers. You have strength, but it is not noticeable yet. Anna is like that as well. They think you are too small and weak to be a threat.'

She gaped at him. They thought her too weak to be a threat? As much as she knew that this was a good thing, she could not fight back the outrage that gripped her at the words. 'Weak? They think I am weak?' Her voice trembled, much to her ire, however much she tried to suppress it. 'How can they?'

'You are small,' Jarred said grimly. 'They mistake that for weakness.'

'I am not weak!'

'Of course you are not.'

'I am Jalis. We are the strongest fighters in Deltora!' Jenara gritted her teeth and lifted her chin. She would not weep, she told herself. She would not… Even so, she felt her eyes sting. 'I am stronger than all those foolish Grey Guards combined.'

Jarred stared at her with disbelief plain in his eyes, but said anyway, 'Of course you are.'

She was not—he knew it, and she knew it, too. No one was stronger than a Grey Guard; not even a Jalis warrior. If they were, the Jalis would not have been defeated in battle on the day of the Shadow Lord's invasion. They would still be in Jaliad, and Jenara would still have her mother and her father and her two brothers. She would not be marching toward slavery and certain death in the land of the Enemy, alone and without family. She would be safe.

She swallowed hard, and shook her head. 'It does not matter,' she said to Jarred. 'I have Jalis blood in my veins, although my mother was from the Plains. I am strong. They may think me weak now, but later, they will see just how strong I am.'

'I am sure they will,' Jarred murmured politely. There was a slightly bemused gleam in his eyes; Jenara did not blame him for that. 'As for our plan… you will still help me?'

'Of course,' Jenara said, stung. 'I keep my vows. I will do what you ask of me.' Then, she added, 'Thank you for telling me the truth.'

Jarred nodded curtly. 'When do you wish to do it?'

'Soon, in a few days at most. The land here is too dry—there will be nothing here. But I have been to land near the edge of the Plains with my brother, before. There, it is fresh and green. We can start to search there.'

Jarred nodded again. 'Alright.'

She turned away, then, to fade back into the edges of the march, where she was certain Kaldi would be. She must tell Kaldi what had happened here. But before she could leave, she felt a calloused hand grab her arm, and a rough voice in her ear. 'I do not think you are weak, Jenara of the Jalis.'

Tears sprang into her eyes, almost instinctually, but she blinked them back. Tears would not help her now. She was Jalis, and nothing or no one could take that away from her or deny her blood.

There was a long moment of tense silence between them. Then, without a word, she shook off his arm and stalked away, back to Kaldi.

oOo

Two days later, they reached the edge of the Plains territory. It was as Jenara had predicted; the land was greener there, and the soil was suitable for the growing of herbs and other plants. Now, as she knelt beside Kaldi at the riverside, she could see sprigs of unknown plants sprouting from the soft earth, surviving in the battered but damp soil. There, too, were faint spots of flowers littered across the grass; those that could manage to survive through the harsh winter. Most could not. These flowers, though still surviving, seemed barely alive, as if it would not take much to eradicate them from the dirt. Jenara took it all in, saying nothing to Kaldi, or Anna, or Jarred. She closed her eyes, and let herself exhale.

Time. It was time. Time to see if she could truly evade the Grey Guards for long enough to find the herbs which Jarred wished to gift to Anna. Time to see if she was indeed silent enough for the task. She rather thought she was, but did not know for certain. If there was any noise—the snapping of a twig, the crunch of twigs under her boots… they would be awake and upon her in moments. She suppressed a shudder at the thought.

'You do not have to do this,' Kaldi said to her, as they lay down to sleep that night. Jenara did not plan to sleep, but would keep awake and still until all the others in the group slumbered completely. Then, when the Grey Guards were asleep, she would begin her search.

'I promised him I would, Kaldi,' Jenara whispered to her. 'It is ill luck to break a promise. You know that. Do not fear. I will go and return here safely. They will not catch me.'

'I hope so,' Kaldi murmured. Her eyes glittered in the soft moonlight. 'May fate be with you, young Jalis child. May it carry you safe in its hand.'

It was an agonisingly long wait. One by one, the Grey Guards dropped into unconsciousness, snoring heavily. She counted their breaths, in and out, to pass the time and be sure that they were truly asleep. At the last, the final Guard fell into slumber. As she spied them all, lying piled on top of each other and snoring thunderously, she knew with relief that nothing would wake them even if the sky were to fall there and then. Now, she thought, she could go on.

Slowly, carefully, she stood, painfully aware of the chinking sound of the chains around her legs. It was not so loud as to awaken the Guards, but it was loud enough to set her heart thudding. Silently she move away from Kaldi, away from their resting place close to the river. Some feet away, Jarred and Anna lay, wrapped in each other's arms. Though Anna clearly slept, Jenara knew without looking that Jarred did not. Whatever happened, he would lay wide-awake, waiting and watching for her. Gratitude rushed through her—he truly did care about her safety, and did not want her to be put into danger. Somehow, the very thought that there would indeed be another person watching out for her comforted her greatly. She would not be doing this alone, after all.

She ventured through the bushland, her movements careful and her eyes alert. Flashes of leaves caught her eye, but when she turned to investigate they were either not what she was seeking or not enough of what she wanted. There had to be a reasonable variety of herbs, and a reasonable amount growing in one place. It was not easy to find, but there had to be something of the sort there! She could not bear it if she were forced to return empty-handed to Jarred.

It seemed like an age, when she was walking and searching. It almost seemed like it would never end. She would never find what she sought, and Anna's spirit would continue to fade away bit by bit. Still, she could not go back; she had sworn a vow, and she would keep it to the best of her ability. She would continue until she found the perfect herb-patch for Anna, and she would return to Jarred with good news to tell. Jalis never gave up; she would not. Her brother would not have given up.

So she kept on searching, peering through the darkness and praying to fate and all the Jalis who had come before her to let her find it quickly. Who knew how close it was now to daybreak, and the Guards' awakening? And then she saw it, a quaint patch of herbs nestled at the foot of a great gnarled tree, pale in the light of the moon. Valerian, thyme, rosemary… she counted them all, breathing a prayer of thanks as she did so. There were weren't many of them, but there were enough, and there were enough varieties to be useful to a healer. Jarred would be pleased, and Anna would be ecstatic when she laid eyes upon it.

Almost trembling with the success of her search, she returned to the place of rest, carefully, forcing herself to move slowly so as not to make too much noise. She went to where Jarred lay, his eyes wide open and alert for danger, and whispered, 'Come with me.'

She led him to where the herb-patch grew. He took in the scenery, the precious herbs that would give Anna her purpose again, and swallowed hard, and his eyes burned with tears that he would not shed. Her heart ached at the sight, for what reason she could not fathom.

'Thank you,' he said hoarsely, and yet again Jenara felt that pang in her heart, at seeing the mingled joy and pain of people she had only met scant weeks ago but felt she had known for a lifetime. And, not knowing what to say in the face of the raw emotion of Jarred's face, she murmured something inconsequential and turned away.

oOo

It was before dawn that Jarred chose to reveal the herb-patch.

He gently shook Anna awake. She blinked up at him with questions in her eyes, but seeing his urgency she did not voice her thoughts. He held out a hand and she took it without hesitation, and it still amazed him to see the sheer amount of trust she had in him, despite what he had brought down upon their family.

He led her to the herb-patch, his gift to her, and Jenara's. How the girl had done it, he did not know, but he was grateful to her for doing it, for helping him find this piece of happiness for Anna. For Anna could never be truly happy without her trade, her healing, and even he could not have kept her completely from succumbing to her despair and fear. He watched as Anna took in the precious herbs, plants which she had touched and known and experimented with since she was a young girl living with her grandfather in the forge cottage in Del. A myriad of expressions crossed her face—longing, sadness, a fleeting joy, and, at long last, a dawning hope.

Slowly, she knelt on the dew-stained grass, heedless of its dampness, and reached to stroke the leaf of a plant almost lovingly. For long moments, she knelt there with her head bent, staring at the herb-patch as if it held her life in its hands. And perhaps it did, Jarred thought. He stood there beside her, unable to tear his eyes away, and prayed with all his heart that this would give Anna heart and help her. That she would not fade away before his eyes. That, he would not be able to bear.

At last, she lifted her head. 'What is this?' she whispered.

Jarred forced himself not to tremble at the emotion in her voice. 'A gift,' he said. Anna's eyes widened slightly, making his heart squeeze inside of him. Closing his eyes, he continued shakily. 'I… I know that you miss Jasmine and our old life, and fear for us all. I know you have missed plying your healing trade. I cannot give back what we have lost, but at the least I can give you this.' He gestured toward the patch. 'I can give you a purpose again.'

He heard Anna make a faint sound in the back of her throat. He met her eyes, those dearly familiar green eyes that were the same colour as the leaves they were facing. 'You can begin again, begin your trade.'

She stared at him, her eyes glittering. But they were tears of joy, not sorrow, and made Jarred's heart flip and ache in his chest. Oh, Anna… His wife, ultimately the healer. Nothing, not even her daughter or her husband, could take that away from her. It was inborn within her, as surely as the sun rose or the sky rained.

'Oh, Jarred,' she said softly. 'Oh…' And then she was weeping, shaking, and quite unable to stop. It was a miracle. It was a dream. Perhaps it was a dream, and she would awaken from it soon. But by fate, she hoped it was real.

Jarred gathered her into his arms and rocked her gently, making soothing nonsensical sounds as she poured out her grief. She clung onto him like a lifeline, feeling the beat of his heart against her ear, and sobbed until her head ached with it and her mind was numb with exhaustion. It had been a long time coming, she thought dimly.

Finally, the sobs died away and she looked up at Jarred with a tear-stained face, but a clear mind. 'Why?' she asked quietly. 'And how?'

Gently, Jarred ran a finger along the side of her face, and smiled ruefully. 'Because I could not bear to see you dying from the inside, dear heart. You needed a purpose. I needed to help you, or I surely would have died myself. As I would have if you had died.'

Anna felt the tears burn in her eyes once more, and swallowed them back. 'Oh, Jarred.' It was a gift, a great gift he had given her. She had her purpose once more, her gift of healing. She would be able to help so many people now. Jarred had known how much she needed it, needed to be able to heal others. He had known, and had given her the best gift she could imagine.

'Jarred,' she breathed. Feeling as if she were thrumming, she raised her head and cupped Jarred's head in both her hands, revelling in the solid warm feel of it, and kissed him. He responded automatically, pressing her body against his, almost shuddering with desire that seemed to come out of nowhere. From somewhere inside of her, she found herself deepening the kiss, gripping his face tightly with all her might. It must hurt, Anna thought faintly and with a little guilt, but he did not seem to mind, and only encouraged her with his body. Then she lost herself within him, and felt a roaring in her ears and a pleasure she had not felt for months. Please fate, let us have this. Let us have it all.

She came to herself sometime later, in Jarred's arms, feeling languid and relaxed all through her body. It was a new sensation, and a good one—the stress of the march had caused her muscles to contract and tense, so that it was more difficult to relax when she truly needed to. Another gift given to her, Anna thought, and smiled.

She gazed at Jarred, lying on the grass beside her, and touched his face. 'Thank you,' she whispered. 'Thank you for this.' There were no other words to convey the depth of her gratitude. She hoped they were enough.

Jarred half-smiled, and rested his head on her shoulder. Anna could feel the tension drain from him as he did so. 'Jenara helped as well. It was she who found this place.'

'Then I will have to thank her as well,' Anna smiled back.

For a moment they lay there in silence, gazing at the herb patch and revelling in this moment of peace. Anna did not think she had ever been so quietly happy in as long as she could remember. As she looked at Jarred, she saw that the frown-lines on his face had smoothed over, and was glad of it. Jarred, too, had needed this. Tentatively she brushed her fingers over his forehead and felt him shudder ever so slightly.

'We should go…' she said reluctantly. Dawn was almost upon them; the Grey Guards would be awakening soon. If they awakened to find two of their prisoners gone from their resting place, they would not be happy. Whips would be flying before they could take another step. The Guards would not dare throw blisters, given the amount of lives that had been lost so far during the march. They would not want to arrive in the Shadowlands with half the amount of slaves the Shadow Lord was expecting.

'We should,' Jarred agreed. His eyes told her that he was just as reluctant as she to leave. Still, he took her hand and they stood, albeit shakily, on their own feet.

'I must take these,' Anna said, gazing down at the herbs. 'They will help me begin again.'

Obligingly Jarred knelt to tear the plants by their roots from the soil and proffered them to his wife, who placed them in the pocket of her skirt, smiling slightly as she did so. It was luck, Anna thought, that Jenara had found this patch, that Jarred had thought to give it to her as a gift, that she herself had been so blessed by this moment of quiet serenity.

She walked with Jarred back to their resting place, filled with more hope and a lighter heart than when Jarred had led her away. The thought rang in her mind, as enticing as a sprig of lavender. Finally, now, I can begin again.


	5. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The march continues.

As they lay together that night, the first spent in lapis-lazuli territory, Anna felt a surprising lightening of heart. She had her trade back once more, and with it, her sense of purpose, thanks to Jarred and Jenara. She had her husband with her still, a husband who she loved with all her heart and soul. It did not matter that they would eventually die in the Shadowlands; they were together now, and for that she felt blessed by fate. She had two friends in Kaldi and Jenara—Jenara, who reminded her so much of Jasmine at times, of who Jasmine could grow up to be; and Kaldi, superstitious and wiry and kind, although blunt and harsh at times as well. Although she did miss Jasmine more than ever, and was terrified of what would happen in the days to come, she had to admit that this night was a night for rejoicing.

So she lay wrapped in Jarred's arms, feeling his chest, warm and alive against hers, and the steady beat of his heart. And she could not help but smile. Alive. He was alive. They both were.

'What is it, dear heart?' Jarred's voice came through the darkness, soft and gentle amid the quiet breeze. Fingers brushed her cheek, strong and comforting, and she closed her eyes, basking in it, before she deigned to reply.

'We are alive,' she whispered.

She felt him return her smile, somewhere in the darkness. 'Yes,' he agreed.

We are alive, and well, Anna thought with a peace and contentment she had not felt in weeks. With luck, our daughter survives as well. If fate is merciful, we will continue to survive, all of us.

It was all she could pray for, that they be allowed to keep this moment of happiness and cherish it while it lasted. That they could survive whatever came. For she had her trade, her husband, and although her daughter was missing, she was in the Forests, hopefully alive and living as best as she could. Could she ask for any more than that? Did she need to? It seemed like fate had granted her wishes to the fullest. Who was she to question it?

She fell asleep in Jarred's arms, deep in serenity, and did not wake until she felt Jarred gently shaking her arm. Opening her eyes, she saw that it was dawn; by the shouts of the Grey Guards, they were looking to round up the prisoners and continue the march. Anna clambered to her feet, swaying slightly, mindful of the penalty for sluggishness. A man had been brutally beaten, once, because he had refused or was unable to rise as quickly as the Grey Guards had wanted. Anna did not intend to suffer the same fate.

They reached Rithmere that same day. As the sun neared its zenith the bustling mass of the city could be seen—townspeople hurried in and out through the worn dirt road, their faces making no comment as they glanced warily at the Grey Guards. Anna looked briefly at Kaldi, wondering. Rithmere had been her city, once. She had told them this, as they sat together on the side of the road the night before. She had grown up there, the sole child of a seamstress and a potter, and had expected to remain there her whole life, as her parents had done. However, fate took a hand—she had fallen in love with a travelling pedlar and had chosen to leave the city to be with him during his travels. Eventually they had settled down in a small Mere village, near the edge of the territory, where Kaldi had begun her work as a seamstress, fashioning dresses, shirts, pants and the like for the villagers, who had welcomed the business, for Kaldi had a gift for such things, as her mother had before her. They had been happy there, for a time. Kaldi had borne children, who grew and bore children themselves. She doted on them all, as did her pedlar husband, and cherished the time spent with them.

Then famine and drought struck the village—though it was not uncommon to happen, Kaldi told Anna, it was the most severe they had experienced in ten years. Half the population of villagers died of starvation and the ague, including Kaldi's pedlar husband and two of her children's families. Afterward, they had tried to rebuild, but found that their crops would not grow and that there was barely any coins left to trade—they had all been squandered during the famine, as the panicked people struggled to find food to feed their families. The majority of villagers scattered, including Kaldi's remaining children and their families, and also Kaldi herself. The poverty-stricken village had no need of the services of a seamstress, when they were now so focused on keeping themselves alive. It was shortly after that Kaldi had been captured, journeying to neighbouring village in response to a rumour of work to be had there.

Now, Anna looked at Kaldi's expressionless face, and wondered. How did the older woman feel, to be so close to the city of her childhood but unable to return there? Did the sight of the city bring back nostalgic memories, as it did for Anna? Though Rithmere was nothing like Del, just the sight of its buildings and lively atmosphere sent a wave of longing through her soul. For a moment, she longed for her old life, the life she had had before they had sacrificed their home and identity for the king and queen of Deltora and their unborn babe, the heir to the Belt. She longed for the forge cottage, its safe and cosy confines, and the sound of Jarred hammering metal into shape in the forge to make horseshoes, swords, daggers, and more. She longed to see her daughter there, raised in safety in the midst of the city, instead of in an isolated forest filled with danger at every turn. For a moment, she longed, so much, to go home. Not to the Forests, but to Del.

It would have been easy, so easy, and safer for them, if they had stayed in Del, on that dark day so many years ago. They could have let the royal family risk their lives travelling to Tora and remained in the forge to raise Jasmine there in comfort and safety. But it was pointless now, thinking of what could have been. She and Jarred had made their choice; neither of them regretted it, least of all herself. Endon and Sharn would not have survived in the countryside as Jarred and Anna did. They would have perished, and the hopes of an end to tyranny with them. Eternal tyranny would have been a worse fate than what Jarred and Anna now faced.

'Rithmere is wonderful,' Jenara said, as they marched ever closer to the city. 'I visited there with my brother, once. It was so filled with life, unlike the villages we came across. Here the people still truly live.' She gazed almost hungrily at the buildings and roads.

Anna smiled slightly at the girl's eagerness, and saw that Kaldi did the same. 'It is different from any city I have ever seen,' she said warmly. 'I have only ever seen one, in my life.' She said no more than this; they had not told Jenara and Kaldi that they had come from Del originally, for fear of sparking dangerous questions and curiosity. They had been deliberately vague about their origins, deeming it the safest course of action. Jenara and Kaldi had not pressed them; they understood the wariness and need for secrecy, and did not judge them for it. Likely they would have done the same, if their places were switched.

Jenara did not comment on Anna's oblique words, much to Anna's relief, but continued on, nodding her head. 'Rithmere is different. Different from Jaliad, or any city. Though of course Jaliad is the greatest city,' she added in an almost boastful tone.

'I must disagree,' Kaldi said gravely. 'Rithmere is the greatest, beyond doubt. It hosts the finest inns and games in Deltora, and is well known for its beauty. Jaliad is nothing but a squalling mess.'

At this, Jenara's eyes sparked with outrage. 'That is not true, and you know it!' she snapped. 'Jaliad is greatest. The greatest fighters are all of the Jalis, and they all were raised in Jaliad. We were the first to welcome Adin! You cannot deny that Jaliad is better. Rithmere cannot compare to it.'

Kaldi sniffed dismissively. 'You are young and naïve, Jalis girl. Everyone flocks to Rithmere now; can you say the same about Jaliad? No. Therefore, Rithmere must be the greatest city.'

Jenara crossed her arms, and glared, looking the picture of fury. However, in the depths of her eyes Anna could see faint traces of hurt. 'The reason that no one is flocking to Jaliad is because there is no one left there,' she said. 'The Shadow Lord either killed them or took them all away. If not for that, Jaliad would still be standing and as lively as Rithmere.'

'That being so…' Kaldi began. Anna suspected that she would make a biting retort, for her eyes were dangerously narrow, filled with patriotic loyalty for her former city.

'Actually,' Jarred said casually, 'I do believe that Del is the finest city in Deltora. Neither Jaliad or Rithmere can compare to it.'

Two faces spun toward him, surprise writ clear on their features at the interruption. Anna smothered a laugh. Jarred had confounded them completely, and successfully diverted the argument from the dangerous path it had been treading. She did not think that either woman would have remained unhurt if they had continued their line of thought—Jenara was overly sensitive at any belittling of her former city and did not like to be reminded of the fact that her people had been defeated by sorcery and enslaved or killed. Nor that she, and her brother with her, were most likely the last remaining Jalis in Deltora. She would not have taken kindly to Kaldi's words.

'Truly?' Jenara said, staring at Jarred. 'I have never seen Del, but I cannot think of any place that surpasses Jaliad's magnificence.' Beside her, Kaldi shook her head and pursed her mouth, seeming very much to want to speak up, but ultimately saying nothing.

A clear challenge, Anna thought with amusement and a little resignation. If they were in privacy, she would have told Jarred not to take it up, for she did not think anything could solve this sudden rivalry. As it were she looked pointedly at him, willing him with her eyes to ignore the girl and the older woman. Joining in would fix nothing; they would continue to trade insults and show off their cities until they tired of it. She could not be sure whether Jarred did not hear her or whether he simply ignored her, but to her dismay she heard him make his offhand reply: 'Jaliad? I have never seen it myself, but have read of it in books. While Jaliad indeed has the best fighters, Del has the finest living and culture. Why, once it was even home to the royal family!'

Anna did not stay to listen to Jenara's response to that, and hurried quickly toward the front of the march. She did not know what Jarred was thinking, by joining in this sudden competition, but she supposed that it was better to let them be at it for now. Indeed, she did not think that anything could now distract them from their passionate debate. If one could call it that, Anna thought wryly.

For a time she walked, lost in thought, the city looming ever larger before her. Rithmere. It was not like Del at all, but it brought back memories of it. Memories she could almost not bear to recall, they were so tantalising and painful. Memories of Crian, the only father she had ever truly known, gruff though he was most of the time. Memories of dancing and singing in the forge kitchen as the sun set, and feeling the sun's warm rays against her skin as she walked to the market square each day to buy bread with the meagre amount of coins her grandfather had earned from his smithing. Memories of Jarred, meeting him for the first time. Crian had found him, Anna recalled, collapsed outside the forge gates, starved and exhausted, and had taken him in.

It had been a shock, to Anna. The boy was clearly from the palace—his long, plaited hair told as much—and those from the palace had abandoned Deltora. From all that Anna had heard, the palace-dwellers were lazy, selfish and uncaring, refusing to help Deltora in its time of need. Crian had long professed his hatred of the royal family and the palace, for abandoning Deltora and refusing to send aid when its people desperately needed it. Of course, that did not mean that he was cold-hearted enough to refuse shelter to a young boy in need, whatever his origins.

Jarred was different, somehow, far different than what she had expected. She had expected a snooty, arrogant boy, full of himself and in contempt of the common people—for why else would their king and nobility shut themselves away from the outer world, ignoring its cries for help? It was what Crian had always maintained, and Anna could not believe anything else. But Jarred was different from those other people, she soon found. He was not even a noble or even a royal, but a servant who had been forced to leave the palace in fear for his life.

Anna recalled listening, wide-eyed, as he told her his extraordinary story, as they sat at the forge kitchen table, sipping mugs of hot brew. It had been his third night there, and yet Anna had not had the courage to query him about it before then. She had sat silently, listening, as he spoke; when his words died away, she gave voice to the turbulent thoughts that were swirling through her mind. 'You… you did not truly attempt to kill the king? It was a mistake?' Although she knew many in Del who would have applauded him for it, she could only feel a horror at the thought. Though their king was weak and selfish, and cared nothing for his people, he was still their king, and Anna could not imagine how life would be without him there in the palace, leading them and guarding the fabled Belt of Deltora.

He reacted more vehemently than she expected. 'I would never hurt Endon,' he said fiercely, meeting her eyes boldly. 'He is like a brother to me!'

Brother. It had seemed strange to her, then, that Jarred would have been so loyal to a king that had abandoned Deltora. That was before she learnt the truth of Jarred's relationship with the king, and his promise to protect Endon. And it was before Jarred told her of the treachery that was taking place within the walls of the palace. It had horrified her, the realisation that danger was so close while Deltora was so weak, and the royal family being so blind and unknowing in regards to it. Then, she could not have imagined willingly sacrificing her home and identity for the royal family. How could she? They were strangers to her, strangers who had not cared enough about her beloved city and kingdom to rule it properly.

But after meeting Endon and Sharn and their unborn babe, she felt differently. They had not been the careless, uncaring monarchs she had once thought them to be. They were as human as she herself, and vulnerable. The Shadow Lord would have killed them without fail if he had found them, and their child with them. How could Anna refuse to aid a woman with child and her king, however much he had erred?

'Lady?'

She started out of her daze to see a woman and a young girl now walking beside her, the former gently touching her arm partly in greeting and partly to gain her attention.

'Oh?' She gazed at them, slightly befuddled, and the woman gazed back, her expression a mixture of compassion and cheerful practicality. Miller's Rise, Anna thought in a haze. They must have been a part of the group who were captured at Miller's Rise; she had certainly not seen them beforehand.

'What is it you want of me?' she asked uncertainly, for the woman's gaze had a determined, questioning feel to it.

The woman smiled, bitterly, Anna thought, and pushed the girl forward, causing her stumble slightly as she moved. She was surprisingly frail, Anna saw now, with long, dirty, golden hair and an unhealthy pallor to her skin. It was a wonder she had not been broken before, she was so fragile.

'My daughter, Enlynn,' the woman said abruptly. 'She has suffered from the fever these past days, a fever which will not go away. I have heard that you are a well-known healer; can you help her?'

Anna looked consideringly at the small girl. Indeed, she was feverous, but all fevers could be cured, with the correct remedy. It would be simple to administer. An infusion of vervain to consume, and cool water, if any could be found, to soak the child's hot skin. She would have to beg for warm water from the Guards—with luck, they would oblige her. They were becoming desperate to return to the Shadowlands without any more losses to their chain of captives, and would be easy to persuade to barter for whatever she needed.

'Alright,' she said at last. 'Come to me tonight, and I will see what I can do for you.'

oOo

The Grey Guards did not direct their captives into the city, but marched them on its outskirts, by-passing it. Jarred was not surprised at it—the less attention, the better, in their eyes. The townspeople would have panicked at the sight of the Grey Guards and their captives, believing that they might be taken as well if they remained within sight of them. Jarred could not say that they were wrong. But there was a more chief reason, one Jarred discovered much later: Grey Guards were simply not allowed into the city at this time, for they only caused disruption to the festivities happening in Rithmere. Apparently, Jarred heard, there were some sort of Games that had recently concluded, so recently that there were still sparks of festive cheer among the city's inhabitants, so much so that they were loath to anger the city leaders by disturbing them.

A short space away from Rithmere, they encountered another troop of Guards. Jarred counted two of them; between them, chained, was a young Mere man. A fighter, Jarred thought, by his muscular body and strength, and the defiance in his eyes. It was a pity—that one would most definitely end his life in the Shadow Arena, like Jarred himself, one day. A sad, hopeless end for one seeming so young.

He had to give the man credit: he did not shrink away from the Guards like Jarred had seen previous prisoners do, but stood straight-backed and proud. He was plainly a fighter, like Jenara, like Jarred himself. He still had that rebellious, determined streak in his spirit which most fighters seemed to have, one way or another. But, Jarred thought, this man did not have much sense, or discipline, for he spat at the Guards, eyeing them as if they were demons, earning a flick of the whip in his direction. Such behaviour was not like to allow the man to last long on the march, Jarred thought dryly.

Jarred resolved to talk to him. That night, as the party was resting, he crept to where the man sat, carelessly biting into the chunk of half-stale bread which was his ration for the night, and quietly crouched down beside him.

'You should not anger the Guards in that way,' he said. 'They will exact no mercy—they will beat you to a pulp, if they are so pleased, just for entertainment. You should not give them any reason to do so.'

The man looked up with a start, and for a moment Jarred could see surprise clear in his eyes. Then, his eyes clouded over, as if a mask had been drawn over his face.

'I do not think so,' the man replied, as carelessly as he had eaten his ration. 'The Guards will not be wanting any more deaths on their hands, or injuries. They want us for the Shadow Arena. Their Master would be displeased if they allowed any of us to be damaged so badly.' He looked up at Jarred, and bared his teeth in a grin. 'I do not think I have reason to fear.'

Jarred suppressed a shudder. 'Even so, you should take care. The Enemy does not deal mercifully with anyone who displeases him; neither do his servants.'

The man stared at him, and laughed. 'And you are you, to say such things to me? I have nothing to fear, nor do you. The Shadow Lord would not have had us captured if we were to die here.'

'People have died already. Innocent people,' Jarred told him.

Still, Jarred saw with frustration, the man was not fazed. 'If you so say,' the man said. 'I will do my part, in defying our hated Enemy. It is the only thing I can do now, to show them that they do not own me.' Anguish blazed in his eyes, and sympathy flared in Jarred's heart—and understanding. How could he not understand? How many times had Jarred himself wanted to do that very thing? How many times had he longed to throw caution to the winds? But he had Anna, however, and he could not risk his life for defiance if it meant leaving her unprotected and at the mercy of the Shadow Lord's servants. And there was also the need for self-preservation that reared its head. For all he felt resignation about his coming death in the Shadowlands, a fire still burned within him. He wanted to live; he did not want to die yet, not now.

He stared at the man, so careless, so eager to throw away his life for pride and freedom. He did not think that this man would sit tamely as he was dragged away to slavery in the Shadowlands. But he must, Jarred thought. 'Remember what I have said,' he told him grimly. 'Do not waste your life for pride and defiance. It will only lead to ruin for you.'

He stood, then, and, feeling the man's considering gaze at his back, he walked away through the darkening bushland, back to where Anna, Jenara and Kaldi sat, eating their own rations in silence. Anna had a glow of achievement about her, which gladdened him. She had told him earlier that she had gained her first patient, a frail girl with a bout of fever; she had agreed to see to her that evening, as the party first stopped to rest for the night. Smiling in welcome, Jarred sat on the grass beside them all and waited to hear how it had went.

oOo

The woman and her frail daughter came at sunset. After cordial greetings on both sides, Anna bade the girl to lay down, so she could examine her.

'Has she always been so fragile?' Anna asked the woman, frowning slightly as the girl winced at her gentle touch.

'Yes,' the woman said, heaving a sigh. 'Since she was born, that one. She has had twice more broken bones than the rest of my children combined. I do not know the cause, but it is a nuisance. Especially now…' Her voice trailed away, and Anna could easily guess what she was thinking. Especially now, when we are marching toward slavery…

'I do fear for her,' the woman continued. 'I have heard that the Shadowlands is a harsh place, and the Enemy does not treat his slaves kindly. I know that we have been chosen for death; the Guards told us when we were captured. But I still hope that they will spare my little Enlynn…'

Anna gently touched the woman's trembling hand, and felt for her. If it were Jasmine… She almost shuddered at the thought. If it were Jasmine, she did not know what she would have done. The thought of one's child being ripped away from one's arms to be slaughter for the entertainment of the crowds, was enough to fill her heart with ice. Thank fate Jasmine is not with us, she thought.

'I hope so, as well,' she said softly. 'May fate be merciful.'

'And so,' Anna said to Jarred later that night, as they lay together under the stars, 'I gave the girl an infusion vervain and peppermint, and bathed her skin with cool water, so that her body could become cold again. I do not know how the treatment will work, but I have told Enlynn's mother to come to me again if the fever has not left her by tomorrow night. Fate grant that it has, but I will make no promises that I cannot keep.'

Unfortunately, fate did not grant her prayer. When the following night arrived, Anna settled to her rest only to find the woman and her child hurrying toward her—the woman's eyes wild with panic, the girl's eyes dull. Immediately she drew away from the comfort of Jarred's arms to speak with them.

'What is the matter?' she asked, through almost numb lips. She willed her heart to stop hammering. 'Is it Enylnn?'

But of course it was; she knew it well enough. Had she not told the woman to return, if Enylnn's fever had not receded by sundown this day? But by fate, she had hoped that Enlynn would have recovered before then, rendering Anna's help unnecessary.

To her dismay, she saw that little Enlynn was sweltering and shaking violently. Her eyes were empty and faraway, her mind and soul trapped in whatever place her feverous demons had taken her. When she touched her blazing skin, the girl did not even respond. Clearly, she had taken a turn for the worse. Anna's heart sank to see it.

'Lady, my daughter has still not recovered,' the woman said, her voice trembling. 'The herbs you gave her helped, but by this morning her forehead was as hot as fire. Please… I do not know what to do. I was hard put to move her, when the march began, and the Guards took no notice, thank fate. But the next day…' Anna saw her shudder, as if she were limp as a ragdoll. 'Please help us. I cannot bear to see my Enlynn be beaten to death by those monsters, or wasting away from fever. I cannot let her die.' Her eyes met Anna's, and Anna's heart almost broke to see the agony that lacerated them. 'Please help us,' she repeated, in a near whisper.

How could she resist such a plea? Almost overcome with compassion, Anna gently touched the woman's arm. 'Of course I will help,' she said. 'I will do whatever I can for her. By fate, I will not let her die. Place her on the grass over there'—she pointed to a space a few feet away from where Jarred lay—'and I will do what I can.'

The woman's face contorted into a blotched, radiant smile. She fell to her knees before Anna, and would have kissed Anna's hands, had Anna not turned hurriedly away, her cheeks flushing slightly. 'Thank you, lady,' she whispered.

oOo

Fate was merciful for Enlynn—the fever receded from her, after days of seemingly endless struggle. Anna had applied all the herbs she knew to be used for curing fevers, and still, she had not been sure that it would be enough. The fever that gripped Enlynn was fierce and at points Anna almost believed that Enlynn would die. But, three days after her distraught mother had brought her into Anna's care, she awoke with a cool brow and coherent thoughts. The fever had broken.

'Thank you, lady,' the mother said, gripping Anna's hand tightly. 'Thank you. I do not know what I would have done if my Enlynn had died.'

Anna swallowed back the hard lump in her throat. 'I had a daughter, once. I know how hard it must be for you. If anything were to happen to my own daughter…' Tears burned in her eyes at that, and she was forced to look away. If anything had happened to Jasmine, she would never know. She could only pray that fate would be merciful. 'I do not know what I would do.'

'Bless you, lady,' the mother said quietly. Anna felt a strong, feminine hand cup her cheek, and then she was gone, walking away to where her place of rest lay, Enlynn with her. Frail Enylnn, who had only survived the fever because Anna had been there to help bring it down. A mixture of pity, sorrow and relief coursed through her. Enlynn would not survive for long in the Shadowlands, with such frailty; her mother was right to fear for her. An illness would take her, or the sharp claws of a beast, or the furious beating of a Grey Guard. Enylnn would die eventually, one way or another. So will we all, Anna thought despairingly.

That night, as she lay curled in Jarred's arms, doubts swirled in her mind. Had she done right, to cure Enlynn's sickness? Would it not have been better for the girl if she had died then and there, so that she would not meet her end in the Shadowlands? It would have been a peaceful death, to be sure, without undue pain; and yet… Anna recalled Enlynn's mother, that poor woman not so different from herself, who had been reduced to tears at the relief of seeing her daughter's fever break at the last. Her pain would not have been reduced, however many painless ways her daughter could have died. Death was all the same, to mothers, Anna thought. It did not matter whether it was a painless death or not. For mothers, the thought of seeing their children die was like a sword through the heart.

She still wondered at how Jasmine was faring, alone in the Forests- wondered, and feared that she was dead, torn apart by one of the creatures that lived in First Wood, or lost and lonely and afraid. If she was anything like Jarred, she would survive—and Anna knew that she was very like him, from her brash actions to her strong-willed nature and impatience, which had already begun to show in her before they had been taken. Jasmine loved the forest, and everything in it; and how not, since she had been born and raised there. Both Anna and Jarred had encouraged her interest in the trees and nature, although Anna had been alarmed at her frequent escapades which resulted in Jasmine returning dirty and dishevelled to the tree-house, chattering about the exotic sights she had seen and heard.

Jarred was not as worried, much to her chagrin, and even encouraged Jasmine, taking her to places which Anna did not approve of. If she had known about it beforehand, she would never have allowed it—hence the reason Jarred had never told her of it. She had still discovered what was happening, from sheer observation, and though she had had some choice words to say to Jarred about keeping secrets from her –especially secrets involving their daughter—and not letting her have a say in whatever he had chosen to do with Jasmine, she did know that it made Jasmine happy, and also gave Jasmine lessons in what to do when finding herself in a dangerous situation. That, Anna could not argue with, but she did make Jarred promise never to keep such things from her again. Very much in love they may be, she thought, but they could not make their marriage truly work if they were not completely honest with each other.

Now, she gazed upon Jarred's face, letting her fingers reach out to cup one sun-browned cheek. So warm, it was, still, not pallid and cold. A blessing, truly, it was, that he still lived—that they both did. Anna did not forget how close they both had come to death at the hands of the Grey Guards, on that dark and stormy day so many weeks ago. It was only because of Jenara that they had both survived that day—Jenara, and Kaldi as well. Without them, Jarred would have died of fever or his wounds, and Anna would have been cut down by Grey Guards, too slow to be of any use in the long march. The both of them owed the two women their very lives. Anna would always be grateful to them, for their aid, and she knew that Jarred felt the same.

Yet, Anna thought soberly, the end of the journey lay in the shadow of death. They would all die in the Shadowlands, one by one, one way or another. Was it truly a kindness, to save a person's life now, when later they would die a far more brutal and horrific death than the one they had escaped? It was something she had contemplated, as Jarred lay in fever, raving and tormented by ill dreams. If she had neglected to tend to him, he would have died, and to be sure it would have destroyed her. But it would have been a better death than he would receive in the place they were travelling toward. There, he would end his life in a gladiator's arena, at the mercy of the Shadow Lord's servants, eaten alive by a monstrous beast. A Vraal, she had heard the Guards call it once, in the midst of their cruel taunting. 'Where you ticks are going, you will be lucky to have a quick death. That Vraal will not finish in a hurry—oh, no!' The Guard chortled, a gleam of sadistic pleasure in his eyes. 'It will feast on your corpse, feast with relish, and we will be all the better-off for it, to hear the screaming!'

The mere memory of it made her blood run cold. To end life, in such a way… She shuddered, swallowing back the bile that rose her throat at the thought. How could she let Jarred suffer such a fate? How could she bear it? She had thought it through, during Jarred's days of fever. Time and again, she had considered it, considered taking his life, just to spare them both the agony that was sure to happen upon them in the Shadowlands. It had swirled in her mind, like some horrible nightmare, seared in place like a hot brand: Jarred, trapped in the arena, fighting uselessly against the monster, that hideous Vraal, which only grinned at him, and attacked, devouring him to pieces… Blood everywhere, staining the sand scarlet and mesmerising the audience in the stands, who cheered and egged the Vraal on… While Anna herself was left alone, grieving, waiting for her own death to come. It was her worst nightmare. She could bear her own death, but not Jarred's.

When it came down to it, she was a coward, Anna thought bitterly. She could not bear the thought of the emptiness that would follow, if Jarred were to die. It did not matter, if she bound him to a gruesome, agonising fate by saving his life beforehand from an earlier death. Life would cease to have any meaning, if Jarred were to die, and it frightened her, knowing that. She could not stand the mere thought of it, so she had delayed it, saving his life when it would have been better if he had perished then and there. Cowardly, so cowardly, and selfish as well. What did her pain matter, when it was Jarred who would suffer the most cruel of deaths in the Shadowlands? If she were truly selfless, she would have killed him with her bare hands, rather than let him endure such a fate.

Within her hand, she could feel his head turn slightly toward her, could hear him murmur her name as softly as the slightest breeze that drifted in the night's air. Just her name, but the word was filled with a longing, anguish and fear so intense that Anna's heart twisted within her. 'Anna…'

She gripped his hand, feeling her heart freeze within her. I am here, Jarred… Do not fear… I love you… She had said all this and more, when Jarred was plagued with fever. She said it now, silently, unable to resist it, even though she knew that it was folly. There was plenty to fear—they were marching to their deaths! And they would not always have each other. Anna knew that as surely as she knew herself. But if the words brought so much comfort, it was surely a good thing, to say them.

And so, she let her fingers stroke Jarred's cheek and hair and jaw and chest, marvelling as she did so. And she whispered the words silently, like a mantra, to herself, wondering just how long it would be until she could say them no more.

oOo

'Hey, you!'

Jarred looked up from where he was walking with Jenara by his side to see the fighting man marching toward him from further down the trail. At the sound of the almost rude greeting he felt himself stiffen, and saw Jenara's eyes grow watchful. What did that man want now?

He soon found out. The man came up to them, as swiftly as cat, and said to Jarred, 'You look like a fighter.' He nodded at Jarred, who met his eyes stonily. Whatever this man was about, this blatant lack of respect did not do much to warm Jarred to him. His coldness increased when the man did not even acknowledge Jenara, small as she was. Jarred felt rather than saw her start at the insult.

'What is it you want of me?' Jarred said coolly, not deigning to answer the man's obvious query. It did not do to give away one's key strengths to a total stranger who could turn on you in a moment's notice. For, Jarred suspected, this man was bound to be one such. 'Speak now, or leave me be.'

For a moment, the man seemed to falter, but then he lifted his chin and squared his shoulders. Fervour shone from his eyes, Jarred noted, an almost crazed fervour. 'I wish to escape,' he said, in a voice almost trembling in excitement. 'I wish to escape this foolish march, this march toward death. It is pointless, that we should march tamely toward our deaths, without hope or purpose. Something must be done about it. I wish to escape, and stage a coup, and overthrow these Guards once and for all. Will you join me?'

For a long moment, all Jarred could do was gape at the man, at his manic eyes and eager smile. Truly? he wondered wildly. Was the man insane, or simply a fool? No one could defeat an entire troop of Grey Guards, let alone escape from them. The man would be dead before he fled out of the range of the deadly blisters the Guards always carried. And… what? He was asking Jarred to help him?

Never, Jarred thought grimly. He would rather die first, than put Anna in such a dangerous position. If he helped this man and was killed in the attempt, Anna would be left at the mercy of the Grey Guards, who would not hesitate to mistreat her more than they had already done. There would be no one to keep her safe, no one to comfort her as she spoke of the aching grief and fear they both felt but kept hidden. She would be alone, and would eventually die alone. Jarred could not do that to her.

'Are you a raving lunatic, or a fool?' he said aloud. He eyed the man, whose face contorted in rage, and shook his head. 'No,' he continued, before the man could speak. 'Not a lunatic.' A lunatic would at least have more sense than this, Jarred thought dryly. 'A fool, then. A fool who will not stop to think of how such a venture would end. It will end with us dead, all of us—all the captives—because whatever your good intentions in this, there is simply no way that you could gather enough force to defeat a Guard. Look at the other captives. They are tired, weakened and without hope. They would never rise up with you on some quest for freedom and defiance, knowing that it would fail beyond doubt. And neither will I.'

'You, too, are without hope and weakened?' the man said, raising an eyebrow. 'I do not think so.'

'No,' Jarred said coldly. 'I have more sense than you, clearly. And I also have a wife to care for. I will not leave her alone because of your foolish dream.'

'A wife,' the man sneered. 'You would not deign to join me because of a wife?' Incredulity was clear in his voice, and it was that which just narrowly stopped Jarred from punching the man in the face.

'Of course,' he replied. 'A wife. I see you have never been in love before, so I will not bother explaining it to you.' Beside him, he half-saw Jenara swallow back a smile.

'A wife,' the man repeated. 'I will tell you, you would do better to come with me now, and leave her be. We are all to die anyway, are we not? From what I see of her, she is weak, and useless. She will not last a moment in the Shadowlands. If you follow me, we can save her, and those like her. We can save them from a brutal fate.'

Again, Jarred forced down the compulsion that rose up, to punch that man in the nose and be done with it. He could feel the rage grip his mind and blur his vision.

'I know a lost cause when I see one,' Jarred said tightly. 'You would be dead before you have taken two steps. I have a wife to protect; I will not leave her alone because of your foolish dream.'

'I, too,' Jenara said, stepping forward. 'I have seen people die at the hands of Grey Guards, brutally. I do not wish to end like them. This idea of yours would kill us all in a heartbeat.'

The man glared at them both. 'You are spineless, both of you!'

'No,' Jarred said. 'We are merely being wise.'

The man drew back, then, as if stung. 'Alright, then!' he hissed, with eyes as narrow as slits, and fair blazing with fury. 'If you will not help me, I will help myself, one way or another. I will do it, with or without your help! Just wait and see!' He spun, and stalked away through the crowds of people, ignoring their outraged gasps as he bumped and shoved at them. Jarred was not sorry to see him go; he dared think that Jenara, like him, watched the man retreat with a fair amount of relief. Who knew what could have happened if the man had stayed longer, if he had turned to violence to try and achieve his ends? For Jarred thought that the man would stoop to violence, if he so chose to, in order to achieve his goals, no matter the harm it would cause for innocent people.

'He is a fool,' Jenara said at the man's receding back. 'Nothing can escape from Grey Guards. If it were so, my people would not have been decimated by them.'

Jarred nodded his agreement. His heart was as heavy as a rock. Though he disliked the man, he could not help but sympathise with him. He knew how it felt, to feel so trapped and longing to break free, but unable to do so.

'He is dangerous,' Jenara whispered. 'He must be stopped.'

'I do not think he can be stopped,' he said heavily. 'He has the look of a man who would stop at nothing.'

Likely nothing would stop the fool of a man from committing to a suicidal path, and when his plan was foiled, his desperation and disappointment would turn to spite, speaking falsehoods of the very people who had tried to help him. But Jarred still hoped and prayed that, when the man found that he would have no support at all from the people, he would quietly accept his fate. They were all to die in the Shadowlands, and there was nothing anyone could do that would change that. Jarred had accepted it, though he did not like it. The fighting man needed to accept it. Jarred shuddered to think of the innocent blood that was like to be spilled if the man began his dangerous course of action.

There was no other way, Jarred thought, despairingly. He looked at Jenara; she looked back, understanding in her eyes, and nodded.

They would have to convince the man to do otherwise.

oOo

After her success at treating Enlynn, more captives came to see Anna. Old and young, strong and weak, they came, asking for her help with this or that problem they had. Betimes it was a fever, or a sore ankle. Betimes it was a colourful bruise caused by a Grey Guard's whip. Whatever the cause, Anna obligingly treated them each time, feeling her cheeks heat up at her patients' gratitude, and a glow deep inside of her. Finally, she was doing what she loved, what was her calling and purpose on this land. Nothing could fuel her hope and determination more.

Kaldi offered to assist her, on most days, having nothing better to do with her time. Jenara also helped, although the girl could more often be seen with Jarred, disappearing off to who knew where and doing who knew what. Anna could not spare time to wonder or worry about such a thing, for the patients came and went, and even with Kaldi's help she was hard-put sometimes to aid them. She needed all of her energy, to practise her trade, in the cool of the evenings as the party was settling down to eat and rest. It was only as she lay beside Jarred, deep in the night, that she would remember, and wonder. Jarred would say nothing of it, even if she asked him directly, and Jenara was just as close-mouthed. It was unusual, for both of them—usually they spoke freely to her of anything which troubled them. Now, something plainly did trouble them, but whatever it was, they chose to conceal it from her. It filled her heart with misgivings to see it, but she could do nothing. She could only hope that whatever it was, it was not a threat to their small group.

'You should not worry,' Kaldi told her, one day as they both watched Jarred and Jenara disappear into the foliage together.

'Worry?' Anna blinked at her, startled. She had not thought that her turbulent thoughts were so easy to see, not the least to the older Mere woman.

Kaldi touched her arm. 'They will not be in danger,' she said. 'They are both fighters, and can look after themselves.'

Danger? Anna felt a harsh, bitter laugh choke her at the thought.

'Oh, Kaldi,' she said. 'Danger is everywhere. Why should I not be afraid?' She met the woman's eyes calmly. 'There have been rumours, you know. A man has been stirring up trouble, trying to gather support for some ill-fated rebellion. As if any person could kill the Grey Guards!' She felt her head shake automatically at the thought, and shuddered. 'And… and with Jarred and Jenara disappearing so often… It just fills me with misgivings, all of it. I wish that they would be more open about what they are doing. What if something happens to them, and I am not there?'

Her body trembled at the thought. Soothingly, with all the knowledge of a mother and grandmother, Kaldi took her hand and squeezed it, her eyes compassionate behind their customary dullness. 'We can only pray,' she said wisely, and in such a way that Anna could not help but listen. 'Pray, and hope that fate has the mercy to grant our pleas.'

By fate, Anna thought, let it be true!

oOo

She awoke in the small hours of the night to the comforting feel of a body settling down beside hers. Jarred, her heart told her, and rejoiced. She had been worried, when he had not immediately joined her when she had lain down to sleep; plainly her worry had been unfounded, as here he was now, hale and whole.

She smiled slightly as he began to stroke her cheek, thinking her to be asleep. There was a lightness to it which she had not felt in a long time, and Anna was glad at it. For too long there had been shadows in Jarred's eyes, and in his movements and actions. It had been that way since his days of fever, those nightmarish days which had left scars on them both. She knew that he still dreamt of Jasmine, of her fate, of their eventual fates—betimes she would wake to hear him cry out in his sleep, and feel his arms gather her to him instinctively, as if to safeguard her from whatever horrors he was facing. She dreamt of such things as well sometimes. Usually there was a heaviness, a shadow to his every action. Now the shadow was absent, and she could not have been more pleased.

She kept her eyes closed, lying still as Jarred ran his fingers across her cheek, through her hair and down her arm, giving her a slight tingling sensation on the back of her hand. It felt good, so good! Anna felt her breath quicken as he with infinite tenderness kissed her hair, letting it linger for a few moments until she felt herself shiver with desire. There was a low laugh, and she felt both his hands cup her face and she basked in the sensation that whipped through her then.

She opened her eyes at the last to see him smiling at her with his dark gaze. So beautiful, she thought dazedly. He was beautiful. When all was said and done, no other man could compare to him.

'You are awake, then?' he said softly.

She returned his smile, her heart aching as she did so. 'Yes,' she whispered.

Slowly, she pulled him toward her, embracing him, letting her body speak for her. With a groan, he sank toward her, closing his eyes as she caressed his face, leaving trails of desire in the wake of her gentle fingers. Neither of them said anything; there was nothing to say.

She could feel him trembling underneath her fingertips, and savoured it.

When she was finished, she cupped his face, and felt him start slightly. A laugh shook her, at that, at the knowledge that after all their years of marriage she could still surprise him. Who knew? And then she could feel Jarred gathering her to him, as gently as he could though she could feel the desire in him that threatened to set itself loose at any moment.

'You are so warm,' he said, his eyes filled with no little wonder—but not at the heat of her body, Anna thought with a thrill. His eyes took her in, from her unkempt hair, her shadowed green eyes to her gaunt body, as if he thought her the most beautiful sight in the world. She could feel herself shiver, and not because of the cool breeze that swept through the air.

'Does it matter?' she breathed.

'No,' Jarred's voice whispered against her ear. 'Not now.'

And he let his lips touch her, and she let her hands encircle his head, and she knew no more except the beating of both their hearts and the continuous thrumming of her desire.

oOo

The days passed in a blur. Anna would march, each day, and be greeted by countless prisoners, all seeking her help with one ailment or another. After the march, as the sun was setting, she would practise her trade, seeing to patients, prescribing treatments and diagnoses as if she were still in the forge cottage in Del, treating those that dwelled in that poverty-stricken city. Each night, Kaldi would sit by her, assisting her however she could, and Anna was ever grateful for it. How could she not be? It took the burden of treating all the patients off her shoulders, leaving her with just over half. Without Kaldi, she might just have snapped, or given up from the strain. As it was, she basked in the purposeful feeling her work gave her, exhausting though it was. She could not imagine herself doing anything else.

After, as the rest of the world lay sleeping, she and Jarred would lay awake, curled in each other's arms, talking of their day, of Anna's patients, of the man who was causing so much trouble among the captives. A fool of a man, Jarred said, who did not consider the innocent blood that would be spilt if he chose to go through with his plans, whatever they were. Anna shivered to think of it, and found that she could not stop shivering.

'Anna?' Jarred touched her cheek, worry clear in his eyes. 'Are you alright, dear heart? You are shaking! And very warm.' He frowned. Anna hated to see it. He was already bearing too much, had too many demons which plagued him. She could not bear to see his burdens added to.

'I am alright, Jarred, truly,' she told him, squaring her shoulders to stop them from shaking. 'Do not fear for me. I will be alright.'

He just looked at her, and the concern in his gaze brought tears to her own eyes. They both knew, though she tried to deny it, to place as far to the back of her mind as possible. Jarred knew what was coming, and so did she. There was no way out of it; there was nothing to be done. Why add to their worries, by speaking of things which they could never fix?

'Please,' she begged him. 'Leave it well alone. I will be fine. I must be.' She had done all she could, to slow the onslaught—had taken all the herbs she could think of and see growing in the wilderness. If they did not help her, there was nothing more that could be done.

He did as she said, to her relief, but she could feel his unease increase, each day that passed, with each day that she comforted him with false reassurances. It was futile, she knew, but she could not help it. How could she keep her strength, if she admitted to herself the harsh reality of her situation? The false reassurances were for herself, as much as for Jarred.

The days passed. Anna could feel it grow and spread through her, however much she willed otherwise. Jarred grew more and more grim. The dirt track grew more and more difficult to traverse. When would it become impossible? She did not think she wanted to know.

It became dreamlike, this world she was living in. She walked, feeling almost as if she were floating, unable to set her feet onto the ground. There was a strange constant roaring in her ears, and a blazing warmth all over her body. Not just over, she thought, but inside as well. It was as if she were on fire, unable to cool down, though she desperately wanted to. Was this how it was for Jarred? she wondered. She had not thought to ask him, before.

She walked, her lips parched, her head aching and her body trembling with heat. And then… the world twisted, tumbled. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground, the mud slick on her shins and arms, the stench of it causing her nose to wrinkle with distaste. She lay there, thinking, I am dreaming. I must be. As if from down a long tunnel, she heard Jarred calling to her, his voice rough with anxiety, and, even more jarring, the snarls of Grey Guards. There was shouting—she could tell that much. Someone was shouting, 'No! Do not kill her!' Someone else was snarling, growling, in a voice so terrifying that Anna moaned. The man continued shouting, his voice cracking. 'No! You cannot do this!'

Do what? Anna thought dimly. She had to see. Slowly, painfully, she eased her eyes open.

If her mind was any clearer, she knew, she would have been horrified. She would have vomited. As it were, she could only stare numbly at the blister so clearly trained on her face, ready to be thrown.

Dazedly, her mind flashed back, to another time and place, filled with blood and rain. Then, too, a blister had been aimed at her, and she had prepared to die. The agonising pain had never come, however. It was Jarred who had paid the price, that day, letting her escape with her life intact.

Now, it seemed as if fate had repented of its willingness to allow her life to be spared. It seemed that she was to die, at the last, at the hands of a Grey Guard. Well, she thought, her eyes stinging. If I am to die, I am to die. Just let it be quick.

She wanted to close her eyes, but they were frozen, glued to the blister as it moved, arm thrusting… Let it be quick, she prayed.

'No!' The shout came out of nowhere. Numbly, she watched as Jarred slammed into the Grey Guard holding the blister, causing the Guard to roar and stumble. In a daze of horror, she watched as the Guard turned, his eyes enraged at the interruption, and smashed his fist into Jarred's face. She saw Jarred stagger back, blood streaming from his nose, his face tight with pain, and dug her nails into the ground to stop herself from moaning. Please fate, no…

She saw the Grey Guard lunge at Jarred, with two of his fellows holding him back as he snapped and raged. Jarred did not move, and kept his eyes fixed on the Guard. Anna longed to scream at him to run, but did not have the strength to do anything but lay in the mud and watch the scene unfold before her. Two more Guards grabbed Jarred, and Anna bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. Please fate, no… Visions flashed through her mind, of blood and rain, tears dripping down the side of her face, the flash of a whip as it struck Jarred's back, causing rivulets of blood to flow. Please, no… Anna cried out silently. Not again!

Dimly, she saw that there was a blister trained on her once more. Please fate, let it be over quickly! That was all she could ask. Her vision blurred and fragmented, but she rapidly blinked the moisture away. Please fate, she prayed with all her heart. Let this be done already. If she were to die, she would die. Please let it be quick.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the agonising blow. It did not come. Instead, there were pattering footsteps, and a voice screaming, a younger, feminine voice. 'Stop! We must stop! Everywhere people are falling. They cannot go on anymore!'

The Guards rumbled at this; Jarred let out a sharp breath. Anna could only stare numbly.

The world swayed sickeningly before her eyes, and broke into fragments. In one fragment, she saw the Guards lower their blisters away from her. In another fragment, she saw the girl—Jenara?—tug at Jarred's arm, saying something to him that Anna could not hear. And in yet another fragment, she saw the Guards circle them both menacingly, whips drawn out, their faces contorted in malicious sneers.

It was the last thing Anna saw, before the darkness consumed her.


	6. Part Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna is ill and in fever; Jarred, Jenara and Kaldi are left to carry on.

The Grey Guards surrounded Jarred and Jenara, snarling viciously, gleeful, malicious smiles contorting their faces. And how not? Jarred thought. For weeks now they had held back their inner urgings, intent on incurring no further wrath from their master by delivering damaged goods into the Shadowlands. Their patience was at an end; their blood-lust was peaking.

A voice, high and panicked, rose from behind them. 'It is them! The man, and that girl standing in his shadow. They helped me do it!' A trembling finger pointed directly at them; familiar eyes met Jarred's, alive with desperation and fear. There was no malice, or vindictiveness, behind them—only fear and a need to save himself from this folly he had committed, even if it brought ill down upon others.

A fool, indeed, Jarred thought bitterly, holding the man's gaze. They had told him not to go through with it; had thought that they had convinced him not to go through with it. All the same, the man had ignored them, plunging head-first into trouble, and dragging Jarred and Jenara along with him.

Selfish, selfish fool!

Jarred shuddered. He could imagine exactly what had happened. The man had attempted to escape, despite all the warnings they had given him to do otherwise. He had, inevitably, been caught, as Jarred had told him he would be. And, at the sight of the Guards and the blisters they carried, and the thought of almost-certain death, he had crumbled, and desperately attempted to place the blame for the venture entirely on Jarred, and Jenara, in the hopes that he himself would be safe.

He is wrong, Jarred thought savagely, staring at the man. They will kill him, beat him to a pulp, and us with him.

He felt his eyes sting, with fury, and hate. Hate for this man, who had chosen to give them to the Grey Guards, despite seeing Anna on the ground unconscious. Hate for the Grey Guards, who hungered for bloodshed and did not care a smidgen for the well-being of Anna, of Jenara who was only a girl, and of the others in the march who had collapsed, unable to go on any longer. They would have killed Anna, had Jenara not come crying of collapse among the prisoners, the fighting man following her soon after. Jarred's heart burned to think of it.

He saw the Grey Guard grin, through a crimson haze, and say, 'Good.' The very word was filled with hate. He watched as the Guard motioned to his podmates and snapped, 'Take them.'

Then there were hands, grabbing at him roughly, hauling at him. From the corner of his eye, Jarred saw Jenara receiving the same treatment. The fighting man trailed along after them, a hopeful expression on his face. Jarred's fury peaked anew to see him. Fool, arrogant fool! He hoped that the man would suffer in this life and the next for what he had done.

The Guards dragged them a short distance away, off the main road and toward the trees that littered the landscape. Once they entered a small clearing, they halted, and Jarred felt himself sway. Beside him, he could see Jenara shaking, her face as white as bone. By the Belt, she was only twelve years old! Jarred prayed with all his heart that whatever was to come, she would not be harmed too badly.

The pod-leader spoke. 'Stupid ticks. Did you truly think you could escape us?'

Jarred's throat was so tight he could not speak. He could only stare at the brute, the cruelty etched onto his features and the anticipation in his eyes. It was the same for all of the Guards, he could see. They all ached for the bloodshed to come.

There was a brief, stifled gasp from Jenara, but otherwise, silence reigned in the clearing. Not even the fighting man dared to speak.

'Answer me!' The Guard's face contorted, and without warning, he grabbed at Jarred and slammed him to the ground, so hard that Jarred groaned, and saw spots of darkness dance before his eyes. His entire body throbbed with agony, and he fought back a cry. Nevertheless, he forced himself to meet the monster's furious gaze with some dignity.

'No,' he said hoarsely. 'We had no part in this. This man is lying.'

The Grey Guard who had been holding Jarred leered at him, and laughed. Jarred's skin crawled to hear the malice in that single sound. 'Do you think we care about that, now?' the Guard sneered. 'Here you are, three ugly ticks, with not a brain between you, I reckon. Why would we pass up this chance?'

'We are your master's slaves,' Jarred said boldly, though he felt anything but. 'He will not be pleased if you deliver less than he expects to see. He may punish your pod because of it.'

'Silence, tick,' a Guard snapped, and Jarred closed his eyes as a sharp, painful blow met his head.

'We will not disappoint the master,' another Guard snarled. 'All slaves will be taken to the Shadowlands.'

So they were not to die this day. Jarred was not sure whether to be relieved or despairing at this news.

'But…' The fighting man stepped forward, trembling, his jaw set. 'What about me? You promised me that if I gave up my helpers, you'd spare me!'

All Guards in the clearing fixed their murderous gazes on him. Whimpering, the fighting man shrank away, as if he could truly escape the intent written in their eyes.

'Spare you?' A Guard made a sound that could possibly have been termed as laughter. 'Stupid tick. Did you really think we would let you go?'

The man's face tightened. 'You promised me.'

Foolish man, Jarred thought bitterly. Did he not know that Grey Guards never kept their promises?

The Guard stepped forward, so menacingly that the Mere man stepped backward instinctively. 'We never show mercy to our enemies, tick,' he snarled. 'You are even more stupid than I thought if you truly think so.'

And, before the fighting man could draw another breath, he lunged at the man. There was a snapping sound, and the man fell to the ground, his eyes sightless.

Jenara screamed. Jarred could only lay where he had fallen, and stare.

'There,' the Guard said, satisfied. 'That is the correct punishment for a fool.'

Bile rose in Jarred's throat, all at once, and he turned his head just in time as the vomit spewed from his mouth. Despite what he thought of the fool of a man, no person deserved to have their neck snapped, as if they were an animal that must be put down. Not even a man as foolish and infuriating as the Mere man. He had not been truly evil, as the Grey Guards were. He had just been frustrated, angry at his fate, and misguided. He did not deserve this.

No one deserves this, Jarred thought. Tears stung his eyes, hot and agonizing.

'What do we do with them?' a Guard demanded, shaking Jenara roughly. 'Kill them?' His face was alight with excitement at the thought.

'No,' the pod leader snapped. 'No more killing. The master will send us to the rubbish heap if two more of these ruddy ticks die on us.' He turned, his face thunderous, and took in the ragged, gaunt appearance of their captives. With dread, Jarred watched as the irritation faded from his features, and a slow, malicious smile twisted the Guard's face. 'No killing,' he repeated. 'But perhaps the ticks are not too broken to stand a little bit of fun.'

Jarred heard Jenara utter a low cry, and heard a strangled sound come from his own throat. By the Belt, no!

They were upon them in moments. He felt the first blow land on his face in a blaze of pain. The second, a kick at his ankles. The third at his head, causing the world to blur and spin. There were snarls of triumph, coming from above him. Somewhere to his side, he could hear Jenara screaming.

There was another blow, and another, accompanied by the panting of Grey Guards. They kept coming, to his head, his torso, his chest… He doubled up, groaning, the pain beyond bearing, as if that would stop it. Heedlessly, the Guards kicked and punched with all of their strength, until Jarred could focus on nothing but the agony of it all. And then he felt the searing pain of a striking whip, and felt a warm, sticky moisture dripping down his chest. The whip struck again and again, until he felt sure that his entire body should be soaked in his own blood.

His ear was filled with piercing screams. They had not died down, but continued, in the space of ragged breaths. Was that how Jasmine would sound, if she were there, if she had suffered the same fate as her parents? Was that how Anna would have sounded, if she were still to meet her end in the Shadow Arena? By the Belt, he thought, it is almost beyond bearing.

It could have been Jasmine screaming, at the mercy of the Grey Guards. He could almost imagine that it were her screaming, and sobbing in ragged, painful breaths. Always, in his dreams, he had heard those screams, and seen the blood, so much blood, and her body taunt and curled in pain. And the sight of the beast with claws and slits for eyes, tearing at her. It was beyond bearing.

Jenara… He could see her now, through the blood and haze of pain that engulfed him. Her face was pale and bruised badly, and dotted with specks of blood. Or were they tears? She was swaying, and shaking violently, but she was still standing. There was a Grey Guard before her, snarling and grimacing, slashing at her with a knife. There was blood everywhere. Too much blood. Jarred could see deeper, longer cuts decorating her chest and legs—they had already whipped her, and were now out for more blood. Her eyes, he saw, were dark and dazed with pain. Sobbing, she screamed at them to stop, stop! But they continued to hack at her, with growls of joy.

By the Belt, he thought, with growing horror. If this continues, they will kill her. Shadow Lord or no Shadow Lord.

A sudden, fiery determination filled Jarred, chasing away the haze and the despair. With renewed strength, he fought back against the Guards who were attacking him, knocking them to the ground while they snarled in fury and shock.

He stumbled toward her, gritting his teeth against the burning pain of his wounds. He did not have the strength to call her name. As it was, when he approached, she looked at him with blank, dazed eyes.

He threw himself at the Guard with the knife, knocking him away from Jenara, and heard the knife drop from his fingers and onto the bloody grass. The Guard snarled furiously at the interruption and snapped at Jarred, but Jarred did not care. He turned toward Jenara. Even as he did so, he could heard the Guards already leaping to their feet, enraged at his defiance, snarling in perfect fury. There were how many of them? Three Guards attacking him, and two attacking Jenara.

Too many, Jarred thought despairingly. Even if he defeated one, the rest would replace their comrade. He would eventually tire, and they would continue to strike until either one of them was dying or dead. This was a fight they could not win.

So he did the only thing he could think of. As the Grey Guards surrounded them both, their eyes crazed with bloodlust, he slammed into Jenara, knocking her to the ground hard. She fell, with a quick gasp, and lay still on the blood-soaked grass. He hoped that it would be enough. To his knowledge, Grey Guards never bothered with prisoners who could not fight back.

The Guards, as he had hoped, turned their attention away from Jenara and toward Jarred. Adrenaline surging through his veins, he readied himself, and they pounced. For a few brief moments, he forgot about his injuries, forgot about his pain, and lost himself in the fight. When they tried to deal him a blow, he evaded it, and returned the favour. When he felt a whip swerve toward him he moved to avoid it, his heart hammering. He did not know how long it continued for—only that it took a longer time than he, and perhaps the Grey Guards themselves, had reckoned. They snarled, vicious and pleased, despite themselves. His own hate and bloodlust rose with each strike, each blow he dealt and avoided. Yes, his heart cried. He would show them that a Deltoran was indeed someone to be reckoned with.

And then... eventually, they overcame him. Jarred had never had any doubt that they would. He fell to his knees, pain blazing throughout his body, and the Guards grabbed at him, and he felt the searing agony of the whip, and the slash of the knife as it bore into his flesh. The acrid scent of blood almost made him vomit, and he closed his eyes against a wave of sudden dizziness. At least Jenara was safe… and Anna, lying collapsed on the main road, and Jasmine, perhaps surviving in First Wood. What did it matter if he died now, as long as they were all alive and safe?

He close his eyes to the agony, as the Guards struck again and again, and let himself wilt, feeling a darkness cloud his vision. Perhaps now it would all stop…

oOo

A sudden blast of cold water over his head shocked him into wakefulness. Spluttering, he opened his eyes, and saw a Grey Guard leering down at him from a tremendous height. So, he thought. They have returned for us. He had thought that he had heard them leaving the clearing, shortly after the beating, though he had hardly been aware of anything by that time. They will not leave us for dead.

The Guard said nothing; he only hauled Jarred roughly to his feet, ignoring Jarred's faint sound of protest at the stab of pain it caused. Jarred felt himself be dragged, none too gently across the clearing and toward the road, and with each jolt further stabs of pain consumed his body. He almost groaned aloud at the sheer agony of it. Dimly, he was aware of Jenara, being dragged alongside him, and felt a surprising relief at it. The Guards would not have bothered taking her along with them if they had killed her.

They were dragged onto the center of the road. The Guards did not bother to be gentle, and this time Jarred could not prevent himself from gasping as he was thrown to the ground. He crouched there, breathing in gulps, and felt the eyes of many boring heavily into him. He recognised some, those who had come to Anna for healing and those faces he had seen during the march at one time or another. They stared back at him, their eyes blank of everything, even despair.

At his side, he could see Jenara tremble slightly. Her eyes were wild—with what, he could not say. But, Jarred thought, at the very least they were not empty and hopeless. There was something about those staring, hollow eyes that made his heart feel as heavy as metal.

The pod-leader jabbed a finger at them both, a thin smile twisting his features as he gazed out into the crowd. 'This is the penalty for rebellion and defiance, ticks! Remember it!'

The murmurs rose. And yet, there was no emotion at all in the faces of the people; it was as if they were hollow beings, made from stone. They stared at Jarred and Jenara and they whispered to each other, but they did not appear to react in the least. Jarred could not blame them for it. In their experience, to react to anything was to ask for death.

He did not know how long they stood there with the crowd's eyes upon them, but finally they were pushed roughly away. Jarred stumbled but managed to stay on his feet, and he saw that Jenara, though shaking violently, did the same. Immediately he grasped her small hand and hauled them both away, through the dispersing crowd, his heart hammering in his chest.

Now that the danger was past, the one thing on his mind was Anna. Where was she? He had not seen her standing among the spectators, forced to watch, but then the last he had seen of her, she had been collapsed on the dirt road. She surely would not have had the strength to move. What had the Grey Guards done to her?

His heart clenched painfully. If they had killed her…

Hot tears stung his eyes. If they had killed her, he did not know what he would do. Desperately he searched the many bodies lying on the roadside. Please fate, let me find her!

There was a tug on his arm. Turning, he saw Jenara point. He followed her finger and almost wept with relief. There was Anna, not far from the main road, across from them on the opposite side. She lay as still as death, he saw, but her chest was rising. The dark strands of her hair were spread, as if the grass underneath was cushioning her. Jarred's breath caught. Even hollow and fever-ridden, she was still the loveliest sight in the world.

Quickly he made his way to her. Once there, he barely noticed Kaldi sitting at Anna's side, and fell to his knees, gathering Anna into his arms, breathing in her scent, and feeling the joyous warmth of her body and the beating of her heart. Alive. She was alive. Thank fate for that mercy.

He could not let go of her, even though he could feel the dried blood sticking to his skin and smell its acrid stench. She was so hot… He could feel the heat rising from her skin, as if there was a small fire inside of her. Tenderly, he pushed back a strand of her hair which had fallen to cover her face. She was so beautiful, he thought. She always had been.

He felt rather than saw the bowls of water be placed on the grass in front of them, and the clean roll of bandages, obviously meant for himself and Jenara. There was a voice, from somewhere behind him, telling him to let his wife go and see to himself. He ignored it. And then another voice, older and compassionate, saying, 'Leave him be, Jalis girl. He will see to it, when he is ready.'

Tears stung his eyes, and he swallowed back the sob he could feel rising up his throat. Whether it was of exhaustion, relief, or fear, he could not say. He could only bend his head and hold his wife tightly to him, as if his life depended on it. For all he knew, it did.

The voices faded away, and all he could hear was the beat of Anna's heart against his, and her soft, hot breaths against his chest.

oOo

In time, he did do as Kaldi predicted. It was well past dusk when he laid Anna onto the ground once more and took up the bowl of water that remained. Under the silver moonlight, he bathed his cuts and bruised skin, and washed away the blood that still clung to him. Once it was done, he felt more himself than he had since the moment Anna had collapsed and he and Jenara had been taken away and beaten.

Carefully he wrapped himself in the bandages, silently letting out a small prayer of thanks that the Grey Guards seemed intent on seeing that they lived long enough to enter the Shadowlands and fight in the Shadow Arena. If they were less inclined, they would have done away with them all, long ago. They must truly fear the punishment their master would give them, Jarred marvelled. Of course, they were right to be afraid—much like his servants, the Shadow Lord was not known to be merciful, on any occasion. If the Grey Guards displeased him, he could dispose of them however he wished.

Recalling the searing pain of the whip, and the malicious grins of the Guards as they descended upon himself and Jenara, he shuddered, and prayed that the monsters would get what they deserved once they returned to the Shadowlands. They had been willing to brutally beat a twelve-year-old girl, and would not have hesitated to kill her in their bloodlust. They almost could have killed her, Jarred knew. He suspected that was only because of his intervention that they had not.

Was it worth it, considering the torture he had had to endure? At first, aching and heartsick, he thought not. And then he recalled Jenara's screams, screams that reminded him too much of the screams he had heard in his blood-filled dreams. It could almost have been Jasmine, there in that clearing, sobbing and drenched in gore. When he thought of that, he knew that it had been worth it. He would give his life to see Jasmine and Anna safe and happy; would defend them to his last breath. Why should he not do the same for a frightened twelve-year-old girl? Jenara was young and defenceless, and so small… but not weak. She was a survivor, he could tell. Like Jasmine.

It could have been Jasmine in that clearing.

By the Belt, it could have been Jasmine.

Jarred did not know when he began to shake; he only knew that once it began, he could not stop. It was too much to bear. Anna was ill, and possibly dying. Jasmine was long gone. Jasmine. She was safe, much safer than if she had come with them. She still had a chance of surviving in First Wood; here, she would have died. If she had been with them, she could have been in Jenara's place, beaten and bloody. It could have been her screams that rang piercing in his ears. Anna had made the right choice in telling Jasmine to hide.

Still, in a part in the deepest corners of his heart he longed for his daughter. He longed to see her face, framed by dark unruly curls, and her green, green eyes. Longed to hold her close, and not let go. Longed to sing her songs, and rhymes, as he always used to, and play with her in their tree-house and watch with fond amusement as she giggled and squealed and danced and ran through the tree-tops as if she were not hundreds of feet above the forest floor. He longed for it so much that it hurt.

Let her be safe, he thought desperately. Let her be safe, and alive, and happy.

It was the only thing left to him, the hope that despite it all his small daughter would survive and become a woman. That she would live a good life. He and Anna would never see it while they lived, but perhaps in the world of the spirits, they would see what had truly become of her. Whatever happened, he prayed that Jasmine would have happiness and peace in her life.

He longed, too, to see Endon. His childhood friend, who he had given up so much for. They had been like brothers; they always would be. Nothing could change that. Nothing could change the ache in his heart when he thought of him and recalled the knowledge that they would never meet again. He had suspected it when they had parted, but he had still hoped that someday, when the dark times were past, they would both live to do so.

Now it was clear that they never would meet again, and something inside Jarred almost broke to know it.

At least Endon was safe, and Sharn and the heir with him, Jarred thought bleakly. It had been worth the sacrifice and danger, if it meant the heir survived to adulthood to reclaim the Belt of Deltora. He knew that Endon planned on partaking in the quest himself—Endon was stubborn enough and guilt-ridden enough to insist on it. But if he had any sense, he would send the child in his place. They had both known from the very beginning that the Belt would never again shine for Endon, but that it would for his heir. The moment the heir put on the completed Belt, the Shadow Lord would be driven away, and Deltora free once more. Not a moment could be wasted.

However, it was something which was out of Jarred's hands now. Soon, both he and Anna would be dead, slaughtered in the Arena for the entertainment of the Shadow Lord's servants. Neither Endon nor Sharn nor little Jasmine would ever know what had become of them. It was a sobering thought. But, Jarred knew, it did not matter if he and Anna lived or died. They were just two people, compared to the whole of Deltora. As long as the Belt was restored and the Shadow Lord repelled, his and Anna's fate was of no concern. As long as the heir lived, their sacrifice would be worth it.

Jarred prayed with all his heart that it would be so.

oOo

The Guards had called a halt to the marching. Jarred heard, from Jenara, soon after he awoke shortly before dawn, prepared to face the coming day. They had finally decided that what befell Anna and the others was no mere trick or simple exhaustion, and ordered a camp to be set up. Grudgingly, they went to the nearest village and bought the necessary supplies to care for those unwell, and obligingly scattered them among their captives. It was something Jarred thanked fate for. The Guards did indeed seem set on keeping their prisoners alive.

After the beating, it was no surprise to Jarred when the fever came. Over the next days, his body alternated between feeling unbearably cold and unbearably hot, and he dared say that he shivered almost as violently as Anna did as she lay in fitful slumber. But he did not—indeed, could not—let it consume him. There was so much that lay on his shoulders that he could afford to succumb to fever.

On that first day, soon after they had made camp, Jenara was struck by fever, and for the remainder of that day and the next, she lay curled, shivering, too weak to even move. Jarred was left with the grim task of tending to Anna, gently bathing her skin with cool water. Most of the time, she was unconscious, lost in fever-dreams, blind to reality and the fear and dread that seemed to simmer in the air and in Jarred's heart. He was glad of that—the present was too frightening, too depressing, especially now. He would have welcomed any chance of escape from it, even if it were only in his dreams, and was glad that Anna could forget all the heartbreak and fear they had experienced, even if it were just in passing.

Betimes, however, she would open her hollow, fever-glazed eyes and turn her head, this way and that, searching. Searching for him. She would gasp out his name in a dry, cracking voice, and his heart would clench agonisingly at the sound of it. And always, he would grasp her cold fingers and say the words he knew she wanted to hear. Anna, I am here, dear heart. Do not worry. Then she would sigh, and her eyes would flutter closed once more, as if his words had taken a great burden from her heart. And perhaps they had. After all, it had been Anna's voice and touch which had been his lifeline during his own feverous days. Without those things, he knew he may not have been able to survive as he had.

Now, it was he who was the comforter, the lifeline. Was this how Anna had felt, he wondered- afraid, anxious, stricken with sorrow? For now, as he watched his wife toss and turn in fever, he felt all of these, and more. It was as if his heart was cleaving in two, the emotions raging in his heart were so strong. There was fear, yes—a terrible fear that she would die, and he would be left alone. It was a selfish fear, he knew. A death by fever would be kinder than a death in the Shadow Arena. But still, the fear choked him.

There was also the guilt. It had always been there, but had hovered within the darkest corners of his heart, unable to touch him. Now it rose in him, all-consuming, like a freak-wave, uncontrollable. He had brought them both to this time and place, he with his plans and ideas. How confident he had been, how foolishly lead by hope, believing that he could keep both his family and Endon's safe, whatever happened. It had led to nothing but ruin. His family was separated; his daughter was alone, and vulnerable. His fate was sealed, and Anna's—whatever else happened to them both, they would die, trapped and enslaved, gripped with fierce longing for Deltora and Jasmine. And it was his fault, all of it.

If Tora had given them sanctuary, as he and Anna had hoped for, then they would not be marching toward enslavement in the Shadowlands. They would be safe, ensconced within marble-white walls and protected by powerful magic. It would have been good fortune indeed, if Tora had deigned to shelter them. However, they had not, and Jarred knew there was no point lamenting what could have been. Tora had refused to help them. It was the only fact that was important. Jarred could not blame them for it, despite the choice he and Anna had been forced to make because of it. Communication between Del and Tora had been silent for too long. To the Torans, the king must have seemed like a stranger, who did not bother to lift a hand to help his people. Why should they have helped him, when he had never helped them?

At any rate, it did not matter now. What mattered was that his choice to hide away in First Wood with his family had led to this horror. If he had not chosen so, then perhaps their fate would have been different. Or perhaps not. Who could tell?

The thoughts swirled in Jarred's mind, guilt-ridden and raw. This was his doing, he was sure of it. But, he acknowledged bitterly, there was nothing he could do about it now. He and Anna were trapped. Jasmine was alone and far away. Anna was possibly dying right before him and the only thing he could do was pour water over her burning skin and pray that she would be strong enough to fight back the fever, and live. Nothing else mattered, at that moment, except that.

For two days, he sat alone, nursing his wife, feeling the effects of his own fever but shoving it to the back of his mind. And then Jenara was kneeling beside him, running damp fingers over Anna's forehead. Her eyes were hollow, but alert. Her face was gaunt, but set with determination.

She had survived the fever. Jarred was more glad than he could say to see it.

Silently, she took the bowl of water from his hands, dipped her fingers in once more, and continued her ministrations. Without a word being said, Jarred knew that his long duty had ended. At long last, he could rest.

More grateful and relieved than he could say, he stretched tight, aching muscles, laid himself down beside Anna, and let the soft rustling of the trees lull him into sleep.

oOo

On the third day, the death-count began. Two dead. Three dying.

The news was met with a stunned silence, as if no one had believed that this fever could kill. No one wept, however. In this life, it was living that was viewed as the curse. Dying, especially from fever was more merciful that being imprisoned in the Shadowlands, waiting to be slaughtered for entertainment. So no person wept.

There were no tears left to weep, Jarred thought.

Kaldi fell ill on the morning of the third day. Jarred awoke to see her curled on the grass, asleep, tremors running through her entire body. Her skin, when he dared to touch it, was burning hot.

Jenara's face paled, when he told her. He thought that he owed her that—the girl had helped him nurse Anna, and had saved his life, all that time ago. She cared for Kaldi, he could see, and it was better that she hear it gently, from him, that stumble upon it and be surprised.

'Do you think she will live?' she asked through thin lips.

'I… do not know,' he admitted. 'I am not a healer, like Anna. If she is strong enough, perhaps she may.'

Jenara shot him an inscrutable look, and hurried away, to where Kaldi lay, and knelt to dip her fingers into the water bowl that was already half-empty beside her. Gently, she began to spread the cool water like a balm onto Kaldi's skin.

Jarred sighed, and continued his own ministrations.

At dusk, there was another death. As before, no one wept. Jarred did not think that they had the strength to. Fate knew that he did not. That night, Kaldi began to vomit and he saw Jenara grow more and more pale and worried, and afraid. It had only been a day and already the fever was raging in her. It did not bode well, Jarred thought grimly. He gazed at her through the darkness, seeing the sweat on her skin and the haze of fever in her eyes, and she gazed back, with calm acceptance. She knew. And yet she did not seem to fear.

'It is my time,' Kaldi said huskily. 'I can feel it in my bones.'

Jarred swallowed hard. 'Surely not. Surely you will survive this.' And end your days in the Shadowlands, he thought but did not say. Truly, it was a worse fate than death, to be a prisoner of the Shadow Lord. It would be better if Kaldi died now, than endure that.

She stared directly at Jarred, as if she could see into his heart and soul, and he could not help a shudder. Her eyes gleamed, both with sympathy and amusement at his reaction. 'How can I fear, now, when I know it is inevitable?' she whispered. 'And it is a better death than any I would have in the Shadowlands. That is something to thank fate for.'

'Indeed,' Jarred murmured.

Kaldi smiled sadly. 'She is young, the Jalis girl with fire in her eyes. She still has her life ahead of her.' Jarred saw her gaze drift to where the girl lay curled close by, her head pillowed in her arms. 'I am old. I have lived my life to the full. I have no wish to die in the Shadowlands; this is a much better death for me.'

Jarred shuddered at the thought, but nodded. It was true, what she said. However, it did not make it any less painful.

'Jenara will be grieved,' he said. 'She has come to care for you deeply, I think.'

'And I for her.' Tears glistened in the older woman's eyes. 'She is not even of my blood, and yet she is like a daughter to me. I had never expected to feel such a way again, but I am glad I had the chance.'

Jarred thought of Anna's grief, and her insistent attempts at befriending Jenara, and his heart ached within him.

'I think she knows,' he said softly.

There was a moment when all was silence. Kaldi retched, and bent her head as blood-spotted vomit spewed from her mouth. Jarred looked away, unable to watch it.

'Just promise me,' she said in a cracking voice, 'that you will look after her. As long as you are able.'

What? He stared incredulously at her. 'Why would you ask that of me?' he demanded. 'You barely know either of us!'

Kaldi's mouth twitched. 'Because you are honourable. If you vow to do something, you will do it, with all your heart.' Before Jarred could protest, she continued. 'You were a father, once. You know what awaits in the Shadowlands. You could not stand the thought of your daughter in torment; you would not hesitate to die to protect her. Jenara is only a girl. Her journey is only beginning, as mine is ending. She will need your support, not now, but soon.'

'Do you claim to be a seer, then?' he said harshly.

'No,' she said gravely. 'At times, however, I feel when a thing will be of great importance. This will be.' Then, after a brief hesitation, she added, 'So, will you promise?'

So be it, Jarred thought, resigned.

He promised.

oOo

Kaldi died sometime in the night. Jarred did not know when her heart stopped, but only knew that when he awoke at dawn, the older woman had long since breathed her last.

Her chest did not rise; her face was peaceful. It seemed as if she had indeed had the painless death she had hoped for. Jarred found himself glad for that reason, and envious as well. If only he could ensure such a death for Anna, or for himself!

He dreaded telling Jenara. The girl still lay where she had fallen asleep the night before, curled close to Kaldi. She had clearly cared for Kaldi deeply—how would she react to the knowledge that Kaldi was gone? She had already lost her parents, and her brother. How could he tell her that she had lost Kaldi as well?

Of course, none of this should have meant anything to him. Long ago, when they had first met, he would not have cared overly much about the girl's feelings, not in the way he did now. But something had changed between them after he had asked her to find the herb-patch for Anna, and had changed further four days before, when the Guards attacked them both. He had grown fond of her, despite it all. Kaldi had been right in regards to that.

Gently, he shook the girl awake. She blinked up at him. There was a bad bruise on her temple, from when her head had hit the ground, on that day. Her face was marred by faint, almost-healed cuts—the result of the Grey Guards' knives. It sickened him to see it, knowing just how young she was. Knowing that it could have been Jasmine in her place sickened him even more.

'What is it?' she demanded. 'Is it Kaldi? Is she any better?'

There was a wild look in her eyes—desperate, almost hopeful, and terribly afraid. They implored him, begged him for good news, any good news. Please, they said. Tell me she is going to live.

He swallowed hard. How could he do it? How could he say it? And yet, he must. He forced his mouth to open, his numb tongue to form the words. Nothing happened. He cursed himself for it—how could he be so afraid of saying what must be said? It did not matter that Kaldi had been dear to Jenara. She had died a good death. He should have been able to say all this to Jenara, to try to comfort her with the knowledge. Yet the words froze in the back of his throat.

He could only look at her, and whatever the expression on his face, it was enough. The blood drained from Jenara's face. 'No,' she whispered. 'No. It cannot be!'

'I am sorry, Jenara, truly,' he said hoarsely. 'I know you cared for her. Kaldi… died well, I think. She seems as if she is at peace now. She…'

There was a strangled gasp. Jenara's hands covered her mouth. Her eyes were fixed, and staring.

'…wanted me to tell you that…'

She trembled, and he wanted to go to her, to do something to take away the raw emotion in her eyes, but her stiffness prevented him. And then she was on the ground, her head gripped tightly in her hands, shuddering violently.

'…you were like a…'

'Stop.' Surprised by the force in her voice, he was silenced. She looked up at him through shaking fingers. 'Whatever it is, I do not want to know.'

'Jenara…' He stepped toward her; he could not help it. The sight of her, collapsed on the grass as if the life had been thrust from her, was enough to unsettle him.

'No!' She flung herself backward, with so much force that she fell onto her back. 'Get away from me!'

He did not move. He could not move. 'Please,' he said quietly. 'Let me—'

'Leave me alone.' Jenara's voice wobbled, but her eyes were hard, and filled with loathing. 'Please.'

His heart aching agonisingly, he turned away. Why was fate so cruel? She did not deserve this—no person could deserve this grief. By the Belt, she was only twelve years old! Why? He wanted to tear at his own hair, tear at his own skin in the spiking fury the thought produced. Himself, Anna, Jasmine, Jenara, Kaldi… Fate did not care a smidgen what pain it caused them, or what grief or fear they went through. Jasmine was only seven years old, and yet she had had to face the loss of her parents and most likely her innocence as well. Even if she was not yet dead, she was alone and friendless in a forest full of the stuff of nightmares. Jarred's heart clenched painfully just thinking about it. He and Anna were miserable, marching toward death, missing Jasmine with all their hearts and wishing that they could be together again. Kaldi of the Mere had lost much of her family to plague, and had been captured and died here on march, of the very thing which had killed her children and husband. Kaldi, who had been steady and calm, and practical and wise. She had not deserved to die. And Jenara, the Jalis girl who had been separated from her brother and lost so much already. She had not deserved the grief, the sheer pain the news had brought her. Did fate have no sense of mercy and kindness? Did fate care nothing for any of them, except as tools to use and discard where needed?

By the Belt, he hoped not.

Somewhere behind him, there was uncontrollable weeping, as if the heart was broken and overflowing with pain. It tore his own heart to hear it. However much he tried, he could never drive the sound from his mind in all of the following months. It was too much to bear; decades later, he would still recall the memory with a shudder and a terrible grief in his heart. Grief for himself, for Anna, and for this girl, whose innocence had been destroyed and trampled upon within the space of a few days. Indeed, Jarred thought bitterly. Fate was cruel, cruel and uncaring.

And so it was that he returned to Anna, and held her to him tightly and yet also with the utmost care, his heart and thoughts filled to the brim with darkness.

oOo

It was sundown when Jenara returned to sit beside him. She did not speak or look at him, but robotically began to bathe Anna's too-warm face in the cool water, her brow creasing in concentration. Jarred did not try to engage her in conversation—it was clear that she would rather be left alone, for now. Kaldi's loss had struck her harder than he had expected; nevertheless, though she was shaking, pale and close to tears, she did not seem to need or want comfort from him or anyone else.

Kaldi was wrong, he thought. She does not need or want my support.

It was just as well, he told himself. She is not my daughter. She is not Jasmine. I should not feel so fondly toward a girl I barely know.

Still, he felt his heart give a slight pang. A large part of it was because of Jasmine, he knew. Though it had been some weeks, he knew he would never stop wondering, fearing for her and missing her, however long it took for him to die. But another part was because Jenara was young, vulnerable, and grieving—and reminded him very much of Jasmine, however many times he told himself otherwise. He did not know why Kaldi had made him promise, but promise he had, and he kept his promises. He would try his best to look after the girl, if it brought Kaldi's spirit peace. He could not be certain he would succeed, for who knew what would happen in the Shadowlands? They were after all marked for death. Still, he would do his best.

Later that night, when the rest of the camp was asleep, Jenara finally spoke.

'I… will Anna die, like Kaldi?' Her eyes were wide, and almost afraid.

At the words, Jarred automatically held Anna close to his chest, as if he could truly protect her from the terrible possibility those words evoked. 'I do not know,' he said tightly.

'She should,' the girl said. 'She should die like Kaldi did.'

'No.' He glared at her. 'You have no right to say such a thing! Not to me!'

'But if she does not die now, she will die in the Shadowlands. Is this not a merciful death for her?' Slowly, Jarred met Jenara's tear-streaked gaze, and fought back the automatic denial that was at the tip of his tongue. She was only a girl, and she was right. A death in the Shadowlands was worse than a death from fever, in Deltora. But as much as he had tried to convince himself of that, he could not make himself do it. To let Anna die would be like losing a part of himself, leaving a yawning emptiness behind. How could he live without Anna, in any way?

And yet… a death from fever was more merciful than a death in the Shadowlands.

Was it better to let Anna die, peacefully, now, rather than see her tortured and beaten to death later? Was he doing a great wrong by seeking to keep her alive?

He pondered this, long after Jenara had settled into slumber beside him, his hands gripping Anna's warm body close to him. Was it selfish of him, and cowardly? Possibly. And yet, how could he live a life without Anna in it? Anna was the love of his life, his reason for living. He would never have survived so long without her. She gave him strength; she bolstered his courage. He could not bear the thought of being without her, even for a moment.

Yet, should he sentence her to a brutal, probably torturous death in the Shadowlands, when she could die almost painlessly now, in Deltora? Would that not be the selfless thing to do, the right thing to do?

'Am I doing right?' he whispered into the darkness. 'Should I let Anna live, knowing that she will suffer in the Shadowlands? Is it selfish of me to want her to live?'

Whether fate was listening, Jarred could not tell. However much he thought and prayed, no answer was forthcoming, from that source or any other.

The fifth day dawned too soon for Jarred's liking. More captives had died in the night; to his relief, he could still feel Anna's pulse underneath his fingers and feel the warmth of her breath. Jenara looked at him questioningly, but said nothing. She did not have too—he could sense her tension, hope and fear as if it were hovering in the air around her.

'She is not dead,' Jarred told her. 'She will not die from fever, if I can help it.'

Jenara did not say a word; she only frowned at him, the apprehension clear in her eyes.

'I hope so,' she whispered. 'But I think that this is a better death.'

Better death. The thought of Anna screaming, bleeding and mangled, flashed through his mind, and he shuddered. 'Perhaps you are right,' he conceded. 'But I cannot do it. I do not think I ever could.'

Jenara nodded, though Jarred could see that there was still doubt in her eyes.

'Would you be able to kill your brother, if he was facing a brutal death?' he pressed on. 'Or Kaldi, if she had not died of fever?'

Her brow creased. 'Perhaps,' she said at last. 'But my brother would never wish to be killed in such a way, and Kaldi is already dead. I would have ended Kaldi's life, had she asked for it. But I do not think she would have.'

They both stared at one another, contemplating the thought. Then Jarred shook his head, and let out a hard breath. 'Why are we even speaking of such things?' he said. 'It is not for us to determine who lives and dies! It is fate which decides, and rightfully so. If Anna is to die, she will die. If she lives, who are we to gainsay fate's choice?'

'So you say we should do nothing?' Jenara said after a long pause. Her eyes were wary.

'Yes,' Jarred replied. 'Surely, it is for the best if this is done. Let us leave it to fate to decide.'

Yes, he thought quietly. They were fools for wanting to usurp fate's role. Fate would decide far better than they whether Anna's life should be ended or not. Two humans such as themselves had no business meddling in such things.

oOo

All was darkness when Anna awoke. It was so dark that she could not see a thing, however much she strained her eyes. It was pitch-black, absolute, blocking out the light. As if there would never be light again.

She trembled, and realised that for the first time in days, she was cold. There was no fire inside of her, no sweltering heat. The fever had gone from her, at last. Did it mean that she was alive, and cured? Or had the fever finally consumed her?

'Am I dead?'

She did not know if she thought the words, or whispered them aloud, but in any case, a voice came, answering her question. A dear, familiar voice. Her heart leapt to hear it.

'No.' Just the one word, rough with emotion.

Jarred. She had been afraid, so desperately afraid, that he was dead. She recalled fragments of memory, from that last day when she had been fully coherent- the Grey Guards surrounding Jarred and Jenara, and the look in their eyes... She almost shuddered at the horror of it. She had been so sure, somewhere in her dreams, that they had both been killed. And yet, there had been the voice, Jarred's voice, which she had heard and drew comfort from, deep inside her numb heart.

Carefully, she turned her head to see Jarred lying beside her, and her heart sang at the sight of him. Alive. He was alive, and whole. Battered and bloody, but still whole. Thank you, fate. Oh, thank you. She drank in all of him- his bruised face, the black of his hair, the ragged rise and fall of his chest. He was alive. Nothing else mattered but that. Not the days-old blood staining his shirt and sticking against his skin. Not the bruises that marred his face, dark purple against his skin. Not the darkness in his eyes, a darkness which made her want to weep with abandon, and curse fate for its cruelty. Her husband had not deserved any of it. She desperately wished that she could take away all of his pain, but knew she could not. Not now- possibly not ever.

He shook, she saw in a dim part of her mind, with the tears he fought to hide. It undid something in her, to see him so vulnerable, and as always, the urge rose in her, to comfort him. Gently, she wrapped her arms around his body and pulled him close, holding him, murmuring inane words as he slowly came undone. In a far away part of her mind, she realised that her own tears mingled with his, and her own grief as well. She caressed his face, kissing the bruises left there by brutal blows, stroking his hair, not caring if it was sticky with dried blood. She could not bear to see him so hurt; could not bear to see the darkness in his eyes. She touched all parts of him, willing the pain and grief away.

'Anna,' he murmured, and her heart nearly shattered at the anguish in his voice. 'Anna, I am sorry.'

'Hush,' she whispered, stroking his cheek. 'There is nothing to be sorry for. Hush, and sleep.'

He wept, then; she gently brushed away the tears as they ran down his cheeks. 'Hush,' she said again. 'It will be all right.'

She whispered the words again and again as she rocked him in her arms, feeling the pieces of her heart bleed with their jagged edges. And at the last he fell into slumber, and it hurt her even more to see the lines of exhaustion and stress on his face. He had borne too much, far too much. She hated knowing it, and hated the fact that there was nothing she could do to help him except offer what comfort and support she could. If there was anything she could do, she thought, anything at all, she would do it, if it took the pain away from him and from her own heart.

Please fate, she prayed. I will do whatever is needful. Just let Jarred be whole. Let us both be whole. Please.

She did not think there would be any answer to her plea; still, she held Jarred close and prayed anyway. Please. Oh, please. Let it be all right, well and truly.

It was the only thing she could do now, and she prayed with all her heart that it would be enough.


	7. Part Seven

Jarred awoke, close to dawn, to find himself in the arms of his wife. A good place to be, he thought with no little relief. He could not for the life of him recall all that had happened the night before—it was a blur of grief, guilt, and tears. So many tears, for both himself and Anna, and Jasmine. Especially Jasmine. Nothing would alleviate the pain he felt when he thought of her, and their torn family.

Despite this, he could only feel a great relief and contentment in his heart in knowing that he awoke in Anna's arms. With her hands resting gently against his chest, and his head lying just below her bosom, he could be reassured that he was not alone in the world. They both yet lived, and even if they were separated from their daughter, they still had each other.

He felt it as she stirred unwittingly in her sleep. Then she tensed, and he knew that she was awake. Without thinking, he reached his hand back to touch her windswept hair, and revelled in the tangled feel of it. Beautiful… He had always loved her hair. Almost as much as the strange green colour of her eyes, the very colour of their own daughter's irises. She did not object to his caress, but leaned forward, sighing softly.

She felt so fragile, as if a single breeze would blow her away. Her thinness alarmed him—he could feel the bones in her body, as if there were no flesh cushioning them, and see the narrow contour of her face which was leaner than he had ever recalled it. Of course, the fever had sapped the flesh from her bones, during those torturous five days; it was no surprise that she was gaunt and hollow-faced. But still, he worried. She would plainly be weak with it, for a time—but for how long? Would she be able to endure the remainder of the march to the Shadowlands, battered as she was by the illness? Did he even want her to?

Kaldi had thought it better to die than be taken to the Shadowlands. Jenara had thought the same; indeed, she had even encouraged him to let Anna die. But he could not do it. However much he pondered the idea, the thought of being alone was too much to bear. He had already lost his daughter—he could not stand to lose his wife as well. The mere thought of it was like a knife into his heart.

Had he done wrong, in not letting Anna die from fever? For the life of him, he could not say. The only thing he knew was that he could not live without her.

He felt her hands caress the lines of his face, fingers brushing gently over the bruises. He could not help but wince—they were still sore, despite being over five days old.

He felt Anna pause, her fingers resting lightly on his cheeks. She did not speak, but he saw the query in her eyes, and the concern. How bad had it been? How much had they hurt him? He could have lied, and told her that it was nothing, but it would not have been fair to her. They were husband and wife; there should be complete honesty between them. And yet, he could not tell her the full truth—that he did not think his dreams would ever be free of the blood, the pain, and the terrible expression on Jenara's face which had reminded him so much of Jasmine, causing him to charge into a final reckless act of defiance. He did not think he could speak of the fighting man's death, so quick but brutal in its delivery. He and Jenara had not been killed—that had to be enough.

'It was—painful,' he managed to say, swallowing hard. 'But do not worry, dear heart. I am alright.'

For a long moment Anna regarded him silently, with assessing eyes that bore deep into his marrow. She could guess, he knew, what he refused to tell her—she had always been able to.

He felt his eyes close of their own accord, felt a sigh shudder through him as gentle but strong fingers brushed against his cheek. Anna… He wanted to speak, to tell her so much, but his throat was as tight as if it were manacled. He could not bring himself to speak. Instead, he found his body sagging against hers. His wife's arms held him, cradling him, drawing him close, heedless of the dried blood stuck to his clothes and skin.

'You do not want to know what they did,' he said hoarsely. 'Truly, Anna.'

'But I do want to know,' she said. 'Always. It does not matter if it is bloody and brutal and horrifying. I want to know.'

She looked at him with her love and her determination, and he desperately wished he could tell her all. It would be simpler, and would certainly lessen the burdens he felt pushed down upon him now. But he could not. He could not bear to hurt Anna with the extent of his own pain.

'I am alive, Anna,' he said gently. 'We both are. That is all that matters. Please, leave it be.'

Anna swallowed hard. In her eyes, he saw the turmoil, the fear, and the sadness that was running through her mind like wildfire. But still she slowly nodded.

'I do love you, Jarred,' she said quietly, looking away. 'You know that.'

'I do know. Truly. But I cannot speak of this, even to you.'

'I know.' Anna turned to him again, and it hurt to see the tears in her eyes. He had put them there. 'I will always be there for you, Jarred, no matter what happens. You know that.'

He could have argued with her, could have told her that all of her promises would not matter in the end; in any case, in any reality, they would die a horrible death, one after the other. They were no longer in charge of their own lives, let alone their fate, and it would be foolish to pretend to believe otherwise. The Shadow Lord owned, or would own, them now, and nothing either of them said or did would erase that terrifying reality. He could have said many things, all of which he knew Anna would vehemently argue against. Instead, he closed his eyes and nodded, and felt Anna gently stroke his hair with trembling fingers. And then he felt her hand reach down to grasp his own as if for dear life.

They held hands, and gazed up at the lightening sky together.

oOo

For all of that day, they lay together, looking up at the sky, as Jarred told her all that had transpired during her illness. There had been many deaths—five in total, mainly children and older people—but this was no surprise to Anna. The fever had spread like wildfire among the captives, and it killed quickly. The five victims had no chance against it.

She was saddened to hear that Kaldi was numbered among the casualties. The older woman had been almost like a friend to her, and she knew that she would feel her absence greatly. It had been peaceful, Jarred told her quietly. There was little pain, and it seemed as if the woman was accepting, almost relieved, that she would not be entering the Shadowlands with the rest of the march. There was turmoil in Jarred's eyes when he spoke of it, and regret as well, she thought, though he quickly veiled it.

Gently she touched his cheek, knowing with all her heart and soul what he was thinking. 'I would not want to die now, and leave you to go on alone. I could not stand it.'

He closed his eyes, and nodded, silently accepting her words of comfort. Her heart ached at the sight of it. As it had been the night before, she desperately wanted to ease his pain, but did not know how.

'And Jenara?' she asked quickly. 'She is alright?'

'No. Kaldi's death has hit her hard. I am not sure she will recover from it.' There was regret in his eyes, Anna saw, and sorrow. Despite himself, it seemed that he had grown to like the girl, in his own way, and Kaldi as well.

'She will, Jarred. She is like you, like Jasmine. And she is a Jalis. She will move on, and survive, whether she wants to or not.'

'Truly?'

'I do believe so,' Anna said, smiling weakly up at him. 'I do not want to think otherwise.'

'Nor do I,' he assured her. 'But I do think that there is somewhat which even the strongest person cannot overcome. Perhaps Jenara has reached that point.'

Surely not, she thought. Jenara was young and strong; she had her entire life ahead of her still. The idea of her broken and without hope was unthinkable.

'I cannot think so,' she said in a low voice. 'As I cannot think of Jasmine dead in the Forests, I cannot think of Jenara broken and in despair. She is so full of life, and fierce… like Jasmine could be. I cannot imagine her like… like you say.' She bit her lip, and looked away. The truth was that she could not bear the thought of such a thing happening to Jasmine. Jenara reminded her so much of what Jasmine could be like at that age… fierce, determined, defiant. Wilful. Brimming with life. To think of Jasmine suffering and breaking in First Wood was torture to her, even more so than the thought of her imminent slavery in the Shadowlands. Who knew what could happen in a forest filled with monsters, a forest which had haunted her dreams since her girlhood? She suppressed a shudder at the various possibilities, and shook her head. 'No,' she repeated. 'I cannot think so. It would be unthinkable.'

For a moment, she thought she saw Jarred's eyes flicker ever so slightly. With pain, or fear, or a combination of both? She could not say for certain.

'I agree,' he said softly. 'It would be unthinkable.'

'Yes.' She let her fingers trail over Jarred's cheek, trying to smile. 'At…at least Jasmine is not here. Not… with us.' She suppressed a tremor at the agony of the idea. The thought of Jasmine being subjected to this was utterly horrifying. Against her head she felt Jarred's breath shudder and knew he felt the same.

'Yes,' Jarred said hoarsely. 'There is that.'

She watched with muted satisfaction as he closed his eyes, sighing, his body leaning into her touch. Even if she had lost all else, she still had that. She still had him. She revelled in the moment, the rise and fall of his chest and the warmth of his skin. He was alive. Alive and with her. It was the one thing she could have asked for, aside from the safety of her daughter and a chance to return to the Forests of Silence and be a family again.

She felt her heart ache with tenderness at the sight of him.

'Jarred,' she whispered. 'I do love you so.' She always would, even after death. Of that much she was certain.

'I know.' He covered her hand with his own, and smiled. It lightened her heart to see it. 'Anna, I know.'

'Nothing will ever change that. Not even…' Her voice trailed away, unable say it.

'I know.' Jarred reached to caress her cheek. 'I do know.'

Her eyes stung even as she smiled at him. What would become of him, of them both? She was not sure that she wanted to know. All that she knew was that someday she would lose him, whether it be to illness or the Shadow Arena, and she could not bear the thought of it.

Why did it have to be this way? She did not think she would ever know. Only fate itself knew the answer.

oOo

A day after Anna's fever had broken, the march resumed. They were considerably less than before, Jarred noted with a bleak satisfaction. Five captives, including Kaldi, had died during the past days. Most of them had been very young or elderly, not strong enough to survive against something so deadly. Out of the children, only Jenara had lived, and young Enlynn. Frail Enlynn, who had only lived because Anna had tended to her all those days ago. There had not been many to begin with, but now only they were left, and would face death in the Shadowlands.

Jarred wondered if Enlynn's mother thought it now a wise choice, to not let her daughter die in peace when it had been possible. Now, however her life ended, her death would be through humiliation, brutality and suffering. Had it truly been worth it, in that case? Had his own choice been worth it?

Would it truly have been better for them both if Anna had wasted away from fever, and died a peaceful, less painful death in Deltora? He did not think they would ever know for certain. All he knew was that he wished it could have been otherwise, wished that none of this was happening now. If it was within his power, he would take them away, far away, from this dismal road, a road which would end in death and bloodshed in the place of their Enemy. If it was within his power, he would bring his family together again. Jasmine would not have to grow up without her parents- that is, if she lived so long. Anna would not have to endure brutality and eventual death in the Shadowlands.

But it was not in his hands at all. It was fate which had placed them on this path, and there was nothing he could do except pray and hope. And it hurt, to be so helpless. If it came to it, he would not be able to prevent the Grey Guards from abusing Anna, if they were so inclined. He could not protect her, once they were in the Shadowlands and at the mercy of their captors.

If they did harm her… He closed his eyes against the thought, his hands clenching into fists at his side. He did not know what he would do. And of course, he reminded himself, they had already harmed her. It was because of the Grey Guards that they were separated from Jasmine, marching toward death. They had torn apart their family and sliced at Anna's heart, and he did not think she would ever truly recover from it. His own heart burned to think of it.

Jenara had retreated almost altogether after Kaldi's death, choosing to keep her distance and her silence, and though he and Anna had tried, they had not been able to reach her. Kaldi's death had shaken her, that was plain, and despite all of Kaldi's claims she did not seem to want any of the comfort or support offered to her. Though it saddened him, he could understand it. The girl had befriended Kaldi and been shattered by her death; she did not want to take that risk again. So she stayed away, leaving Jarred and Anna alone.

Still, he could not forget Kaldi's final words, and the vow she had extracted from him. No matter how much it baffled him, he had promised, and he owed it to Kaldi's memory to try and do as she asked. No matter that the Jalis girl did not want his or Anna's help in the least. He had to try.

It was difficult—he had expected it to be. She kept herself scarce now, not wanting to be found. During the march there was no time to search, for all his energy was focused on avoiding the Grey Guards' ire and their whips that lashed out wherever they could. As they stopped for the night, he would look, but she could never be seen.

It was clear as day that the girl wanted to stay away from them. But he could not bring himself to accede to her obvious wish, at least not yet. There was still the promise he had made to Kaldi, after all.

'Jarred,' he heard Anna say quietly as they lay together one night. 'She does not want to speak to us. You cannot force her.'

He met her shadowed eyes with his own. 'I know.' What else could he say? How could he explain the promise he had made to Kaldi, and the sense of responsibility he felt toward her? He was not sure he understood it himself. 'But I cannot stop trying, yet.'

She looked at him in surprise, but he refused to elaborate.

Like Anna, Jarred had not wanted to think that the Jalis girl would never recover. However, Jenara had seemed so completely broken, in those few moments after hearing of Kaldi's death, that he could not imagine her recovering from it. He could not blame her for it. She was only twelve years old, and had been forced to witness unimaginable horrors and endure a savage beating, only days before. Kaldi's death was the last straw. She had lost her parents, her home, and her brother, and now Kaldi had left her as well. It was no wonder that she had broken down.

He found the girl at last a week after they had resumed marching, as their party settled down to rest. She sat curled underneath a tree with her head bowed; she looked up as he approached and a jolt ran through his spine at the bleakness in her eyes.

'Jenara,' he began. How, he wondered wildly, could he explain about the promise he had made to Kaldi, on the night of her death, which in part had made him feel so much responsibility towards her and her well-being? How could he explain it all without sounding completely mad?

'What are you doing here?' she said in a harder voice than he had ever heard her use before. 'What do you want with me?'

'To talk with you, that is all,' he told her. 'To be sure you are alright.'

'Why do you care?' Though her voice was flat and emotionless, her eyes were filled with emotion. 'We will all die in the Shadowlands.'

'Jenara…' He wanted to say something, but did not know what.

'It was a mistake, to befriend you and Anna and…and Kaldi.' The girl looked at him steadily with unblinking eyes, as if begging him to understand. 'It has brought me nothing but pain, and would make it worse for all of us in the Shadowlands. I do not want to die knowing there is someone who will grieve for me.'

The innocence that had been there in her eyes when they had first met was gone. If it was still there, it was only a shadow of what it once was. His stomach churned at seeing it, seeing what the march had done to a twelve-year-old girl. What it could have done to Jasmine, had she shared their fate.

'Jenara…'

He saw her shudder, though she tried to suppress it. Her eyes flashed with an emotion he could not identify. 'Leave me alone,' she whispered. 'Please. I do not want to see any of you ever again.'

He wanted to speak, to convince her otherwise, but the determined, bitter look on her face told him that he was wasting his time. What could he say or do to persuade a person who had already succumbed to despair? Most likely nothing.

And so he nodded, carefully avoiding the gaze of her empty eyes, and walked away without another word.

oOo

It was called the Mountain road, the road that would take them from this corner of emerald territory to Dread Mountain, and the very border of the Shadowlands itself. Already the thought filled Anna with more fear than she had ever felt in her life. For every step they took along that path would take them closer and closer to slavery, death, and suffering.

They would die there, the both of them, eventually, whether they were slaughtered in the Arena or succumbed to illness and starvation. It was inevitable. No person had ever escaped from the Shadowlands, or ever would. The Grey Guards had taunted them, countless times, about it, when they had not been describing in great, malicious detail the fate that awaited them in the Shadow Arena. To be owned, brutalised, brow-beaten… worked to exhaustion, with no surcease whatsoever… She almost shuddered to think of it. Perhaps it was more merciful, in a fashion, that she had been chosen for a gladiator's death, and not life-long servitude. At least she –and Jarred—would not suffer for long until death claimed them at last.

However, it did not minimise the agony she felt when she thought of Jarred's fate, and her own, and Jasmine's. Especially Jasmine. Her beautiful daughter, with her emerald-green eyes that were so much like her own, that had always shone with a bright joy and innocence as she played among the trees that were her home. It hurt to think of her, but she could not stop herself. Was she safe? Was she happy, or at the least content? Or was she frightened and alone, tormented by monsters? Anna did not think she would ever know, and she knew that she would never stop wondering and fearing, despite all the assurances she had spoken to Jarred as they marched through Plains territory, and all the hopeful words Jarred had told her in return. The fact was that their daughter was gone—Anna would never hold her again, or sing to her, or rock her to sleep. She was gone, and Anna felt bereft.

At least she still had Jarred. That knowledge kept her heart alive, and brightened her hope. At least she was not completely alone. But for how long would it last? How long would it be until they came for him? For either of them?

The thought ate at her as she lay beside Jarred in the darkness of the night. Restless and alert, she could only tremble, and wonder. Who would they choose first—herself, or Jarred?

Jarred was the stronger fighter, and the Grey Guards knew it. They had seen his strength, and the fire in his spirit, many times during this long march. It was always the strongest warriors who brought the most entertainment into the Arena, much more so than a defenceless woman whose knowledge lay in healing and herbs. Fighters resisted. Fighters gave it all that they had, with all the stamina, determination and fury that had not been lost to them along with their freedom.

Jarred was one such. So was Jenara, that small Jalis girl who had intrigued her so much during this march, being so much like Jasmine. Both were the sort of fighters the Guards were searching for to throw into the Shadow Arena.

They would choose Jarred first. She was sure of it. And she would be left to grieve alone, for however long until they finally came for her. It pained her heart to think of it. Oh, Jarred…

One night she lay curled in Jarred's arms, too tense to drift into sleep easily. Thoughts whirled through her mind—of Jasmine and her unknown fate, and herself and Jarred and their imminent enslavement in the Shadowlands. Especially that. It was terrifying, the mere thought of becoming a slave and having no free will at all and being at the complete mercy of their captors. The thought of Jarred enduring the abuse and taunts at the hands of the Guards struck her heart like a knife, deadly and precise. He had already endured so much—she did not want to see him be harmed more than he had been.

She could feel his breaths against his chest, and the steady beat of his heart. Alive. He was alive. For now. Without thinking she laid her hand gently on the side of his head, and felt him stir and open his eyes.

'Jarred.' His name came out in a single, soft breath.

'Yes, dear heart?' His voice was soft and gentle within the surrounding quietness, though filled with weariness. It almost brought tears into her eyes to hear it.

'I am afraid,' she whispered.

'So am I,' he said simply.

She felt herself shudder; in response she felt Jarred pull her closer toward him. They said nothing else; there was nothing to say. Instead they simply held one another, feeling each other's warmth and the steady pattern of their breathing, taking heart in the proof of their living.

After a long moment, Jarred spoke again. 'Whatever happens, we must face it with courage. We must not lose hope now.' His words, she knew, were as much for himself as they were for her.

'What if we are separated?' she asked softly. 'What then?' The words made her heart ache unbearably, but they had to be said. What would happen if they were placed in different cells, so completely isolated from one another that they did not know their fates? She knew she would hardly be able to bear it if she were physically separated from Jarred and never discovered whether he lived or died. And she knew Jarred must feel the same way.

'If…' and she saw him swallow hard, and look away, before continuing. He, too, did not like this particular thought. 'If it comes to it, and we are separated…'

'You do not know, do you?' she said quietly. He remained silent, avoiding her gaze. 'I do not know, either. And it frightens me so.'

'It frightens me, as well. Nothing frightens me more, aside from harm coming to you or Jasmine.'

'Oh, Jarred.' Gently, she cupped his cheek, feeling the moisture there. She felt her eyes sting with tears of her own, as she added, 'I can look after myself. You know that.'

'I know,' he said softly. 'But it still hurts.'

'I know,' she whispered. By fate, it hurt so much she did not think she could stand it.

Because she could not stand to see the pain in his eyes, she took him into her arms and held him close, willing the hurt and fear in both their hearts to go away. And she prayed, for all of them. For Jasmine to be safe, for Jarred to be whole.

She did not know when she drifted into sleep. It most likely did not matter. She only knew that she had been holding Jarred tightly against her breast, her heart sore with longing, fear and grief. Longing, to not have to let him go, to always be able to hold him in this way. For she would have to let him go, one way or another, eventually. It was inevitable. Fear, for herself, but most of all for Jarred, and Jasmine. Their daughter, lost and alone. With fate's blessing, she still lived, and would continue to do so. And Jarred… She suppressed a shudder. The thought was too unbearable to voice. What would become of him, of them both? She did not think she wanted to know.

She opened her eyes to the sight of the grey light of the dawn. It was dull and ordinary, as ordinary as the countless other dawns she had witnessed on this march, but Anna's heart thudded to see it. So beautiful… Tears sprang into her eyes, clouding her vision. It was beautiful. How could it be so beautiful? How can I weep at the sight of it? And yet she did. She could feel the tears, trickling silently down her cheeks, even as she sat there like stone, frozen and unmovable.

It was too unfair, too cruel. Fate was cruel. Whatever else they may have done, they had not deserved this. Jarred had not deserved this. To die, in torment, bloody and broken, torn apart piece by piece by a monstrous beast while the Shadow Lord's creatures watched and cheered from the stands… It was terrifying to think of. Not least of all because it was her fate. But, whether she was dead or alive, she would have to watch it happen to Jarred. How would she be able to bear it? Just as Jarred's greatest fear was her death in the Arena, hers was Jarred's. Her heart would break to see it, and she did not think she would ever be able to mend it, however much she tried to.

Would that she could mend it now! If she had the power, she would mend both of their hearts, chasing the pain and grief away. But she was only a healer of physical ailments. How could she heal the mind and heart? It was impossible. But, by fate, how she wished she could do it. Not for herself, entirely, but for Jarred. I will do anything, she had said. Just let him be whole. It had been a cry from the heart, irrational and reckless, but as she looked down at her husband, saw again his shadowed, haunted eyes and the pain and exhaustion in the lines of his body, she knew that it was true—she would give all of herself to ensure Jarred's happiness, and that of their daughter. There was no question of it.

In her arms she felt Jarred stir, and the dread of the night before gripped her again. By fate, she could not bear the thought of losing him.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. She gazed back, seeing her own fear and dread reflected in his.

'By fate, what will become of us?' she whispered.

Though images of the myriad possibilities filled her mind (and Jarred's as well, she was sure), neither of them could bear to respond.

oOo

It was in the afternoon of the next day that they passed a dark-looking village, sitting snugly at the foot of the Barrier Mountains. It looked almost sinister, in a way, Jarred thought. Certainly it was a place which no person would want to live in, with its forbidding appearance plain even from a distance. Murmurs arose when the village came into sight, and he saw a number of captives cast furtive, scandalised gazes upon it, one going so far as to hold up her hands in the sign to ward off all evil.

From others in the march, he had heard something of that dark place. Shadowgate, they called it. A cursed place. A place out of a person's nightmares, where the most terrible things were said to occur. It was better not to know what. Above all, what every person said about it was that there was a terrifying darkness at its core, and no one dared to go there because of it.

Jarred pondered what he heard. They were possibly only rumours, he thought, started by frightened people who were too superstitious for their own good. Most often people believed what they were lead to believe. However, every rumour had a grain of truth in it. Shadowgate was close enough to the Shadowlands border that is would be a dangerous place to visit; for all they knew, it could be cursed, tainted by the proximity of the Shadow Lord's domain. But of course, it did not matter—they would not be entering the Shadowlands through that village and its pass. Instead, they would be marching all the way to Dread Mountain, and entering through a pass that lead from the mountain's foot. He could not help but be relieved at that—it delayed their end yet again by another couple weeks.

The further they marched into emerald territory, the more Jarred felt a sense of foreboding and fear. Foreboding, for each step they took brought them closer and closer to the Shadowlands, and their final fate. Fear, because he knew that once the border at the foot of Dread Mountain, nothing would be the same again. They would be considered slaves, property, and treated as such. He did not mind for himself, but for Anna. Every part of him cried out at the thought of those monsters laying hands on her, and his heart clenched at the knowledge that he would not be able to prevent them from hurting her, if they were of a mind to.

It was not that he thought Anna to be weak. There was no person he knew more capable than Anna. It was she, after all, who had saved him from the Wenn all those years ago, with just her wits and her knowledge as a herbalist and healer, knowledge which had allowed her to brew that precious, life-giving potion. He still did not know how she had managed to do it—there had been so much chaos and so little time before sunset, the coming of the Wennbar and the imminent death that accompanied it. Still, she had done it. It was solely because of her that he had not been swallowed whole as a living sacrifice, and he never forgot it.

However, he knew that the place where they would soon dwell was harsher and crueller by far than the fabled terrors of the Forests of Silence which they had heard of for most of their childhood. There was no role for healers in such a barren wasteland. The Shadow Lord prized blood and horror, and death and despair, above all else, and strived to blot out hope and faith, amongst other things, from the face of the earth, for whatever dark reason. Healing denoted hope, to many people—especially in these times. Whatever actions brought that emotion to being, the Shadow Lord had nothing to do with.

One night, as they both lay together on the side of the road, he dared to broach the subject. Through the darkness, he saw her eyes widen in distress, and immediately regretted beginning this conversation. Seeing Anna upset was the one thing he could never stand.

'You know I can look after myself, Jarred,' she said quietly.

'I do know. But it will be different, in the Shadowlands,' he reminded her.

'I know.' Anna trembled, and he saw her eyes flash ever so slightly. 'I do know, Jarred. Blood, torture, death and horror… It is all the Grey Guards speak of. We will be locked away, taken out only when they want to use us. As if we were animals.' He felt her shudder. 'I do not think it would be so painful, for us. We will only be taken out once to be killed. But others… they will be used and beaten and tormented again and again, until they finally die of it. Their fate is crueller than ours, I think. And yet…' She shook her head. 'It is all the same.'

'I know.' How could he not? Anna was right—those others, who were condemned to suffer for a lifetime as slaves, had a worse fate than they themselves. However, they were all slaves, to be used against their will, whether they were thrown into a gladiator's arena or forced into harsh manual labour. None of them were truly free. What did it matter the manner of their slavery, if that were the case? They all suffered greatly, and all were owned, the property of the Shadow Lord, to do with them what he willed. It was part of what terrified and angered him most. To be owned and treated like chattel, helpless to prevent abuse of Anna, was one of his worst nightmares.

Would that it were not so. He almost shuddered at the terrible image that entered his mind—of Anna, bloody and broken, cornered by a hideous beast with slits for eyes and a gaping mouth. Anna, alone and defenseless, and he himself trapped, quite unable to help her. The reality of it was like a knife to the gut. In the Shadowlands, he would not be able to protect her. They could torture her, beat her, and send her to die, and he would not be able to do a thing about it.

'Jarred,' and he heard Anna's voice, as if from down a long tunnel. A hand stroked his cheek, and he turned his face toward it instinctively. Her hollow eyes seemed to smile at the sight, and it warmed his heart to see it. Too many times he had seen her blank, grief-stricken face as they walked together- it had never failed to cause him pain, knowing that she was suffering in part because of him, and his choice.

Her strong but gentle fingers continued to stroke his face, and he felt himself relax at her touch, as always. 'Jarred,' she said softly. 'It will be all right.'

He swallowed hard. 'How can you say so?'

'It must be true. We did not sacrifice all just to see the Enemy prevail. The Belt will be restored, and the Shadow Lord defeated. Jasmine will be safe. None of this will have been in vain.'

She was right, of a surety. But it did not take away the hurt. He shuddered again, and felt her arms come around him in an instant. He could hear her murmuring to him, and though he could not understand exactly what was being said, the love and strength in her voice was enough to make the tension leave his body with a final shudder.

'Anna.' He drew in a shuddering breath, before continuing. 'Anna, I do love you, so much.'

She gazed at him, and he found himself almost drowning in her expressive green eyes which conveyed so much at once. Regret. An aching love. Faith. Fear, for both of them, and for Jasmine. Sorrow, for the predicament they had found themselves in and what would become of them eventually. And relief, for they were both still alive, against all the odds, and still together. Still. A lump grew in his throat. It was indeed a blessing that they both yet lived.

'Anna…' he began thickly. He wanted to tell her so many things, but could not find the words.

'There is no need,' she said softly. 'And you know it as well as I.'

He looked away, and nodded. He did know. But that did not mean that it did not hurt.

'Jarred,' he heard Anna whisper, and felt the touch of her hand on his arm. He turned his head to see her gazing at him with anguished eyes. 'I do love you. I will always love you. You know that. But, Jarred, it breaks my heart to see you like this.'

His eyes stung, and he struggled to reply. 'I know. I… Anna, I am sorry. I never meant…'

Anna stopped his words with a kiss that set his heart to racing. When she pulled away, he was trembling, and so was she, but not from fear. They gazed at one another, their faces only inches apart.

'I love you,' Anna breathed. 'I wish you would tell me what is troubling you.'

'Anna, I know,' he said hoarsely. 'And you know I cannot.'

'I am your wife,' she said. His heart ached to hear the pain in her voice. 'I should know of this. I want to know. By fate, Jarred, why can you not let me share your burden?'

Gazing at her, seeing her frustration and distress, made his heart clench even more. He wanted so much to tell her all, but knew that it was impossible. Instead, he shook his head. 'Anna, I cannot. I cannot speak of it to even you. I am sorry if it hurts you, but it is the truth. Please, Anna, do not make me speak. I cannot do it.' His voice was harsh, more so than he realised at first. At hearing it, Anna flinched, and he saw the pain flicker in her eyes, pain which he felt in his own heart. By the Belt, he hated to cause her grief, but it could not be helped, now. It tore up his insides to even think of telling her all, not just because it would mean reliving everything that had happened to him during the march, but also because it would mean burdening Anna with so much fear and agony. While he knew that Anna was strong enough bear it, he knew that he was not strong enough to give her that burden. So he said nothing, and waited for Anna to respond.

'Alright,' she said at last, shivering. 'I will not make you. But I wish…' Her voice trailed away, and she glanced at him with tears plain in her eyes.

'I know, dear heart,' he said thickly. Tears stung his own eyes; it took all of his will to blink them back. 'I know.'

'Yes.' Sighing, Anna rested her head on his chest, and closed her eyes. Bit by bit, Jarred felt the tension in her body fade away, and with it the tension in his own body. How was Anna able to have such an effect on him? He could not say, but knew that he was well and truly grateful for it.

'Jarred?' Anna's sleepy voice reached his ears as he was settling into slumber.

He blinked in surprise but answered her in what he hoped was an audible tone. 'Yes, dear heart?'

'I love you, so much. I will not leave you alone.'

He swallowed back the lump in his throat but said nothing in reply, for Anna had already slipped into sleep.

oOo

The remainder of the journey along emerald territory passed rather uneventfully, at least compared to those of the other territories they had passed through. It was a surprising relief, one Jarred had not expected to have this far into the march. There were no more complications and no more delays; the only violence the captives experienced was the flick of the Guards' whips as they stumbled during the march. For Anna's sake, Jarred was relieved, for he had doubted that Anna would survive a brutal beating, or another illness such as the one she had recovered from, and it chilled him to the bone to think of Anna being killed. It did not matter that she would die anyway, in the Shadow Arena. The thought of her dying now and leaving him alone was almost too much to bear.

There was a lot of time to think, during the days and nights that came. To think of Endon, Sharn and their child, safe in the forge because of the sacrifice he and Anna had made. To think of Jasmine, either dead or surviving alone in the Forests of Silence. To think of himself, and Anna, and what awaited them in the Shadowlands. Slavery. Death. All the things that made his blood run cold as ice and filled his mind with fear. The thought being helpless to protect Anna from pain and abuse was unbearable, as was the thought of Jasmine dead in First Wood.

By fate, he prayed, let Jasmine, Endon, Sharn and the heir survive. Surely that is mercy enough?

oOo

On one of the last nights of their journey, Jarred dreamt. He dreamt that he sat on the broad branch outside their tree-top house, holding his wife close to shield her from the cool breeze that blew around them. They had come out, as they always did, to watch the sun set below the horizon in a brilliant display of amber and gold and pink which could never be seen from within the city of Del.

He could feel the small foot kicking out strongly- so fierce, and so determined! It was almost as if its owner was already aching to be freed from its temporary cocoon and come into the world. He could not help but marvel at it—he was sure he had never felt anything like it before.

'She is kicking strongly tonight.' Anna smiled with shining eyes, a hand resting gently on her large belly. The other hand covered his own, its touch conveying relief, tenderness and so much joy despite the constant danger that surrounded them even now. First Wood may have been a safe haven for them and their coming child, free from Grey Guards, but there were other dangers—the natural dangers of the Forests, those monsters which lurked on the forest floor and hunted by night for hapless prey to trap and kill. He and Anna had done their best to guard their home from the terrors of First Wood, but he knew that anything could happen, even with all the protective measures they had enforced upon themselves.

'How do you know it is a she?' he said lightly. 'It could be a he.'

Anna laughed; his heart warmed to hear it. 'I just know that it will be a girl,' she said. 'Perhaps it is a mother's instinct.'

'Perhaps,' he agreed. She knew as well as he did that there was an almost equal chance of the babe being a boy. But Anna had hoped for a daughter since they had first realised that she was with child eight months before. A boy would have been welcome as well, of course, but it was a girl she truly longed for.

'Whatever, whoever she comes to be, she will be loved,' he said softly. 'No matter what happens.'

A hand caressed his arm, and as he turned his head he could see Anna's green eyes, smiling and filled with joy, and hear her elated murmur. 'Yes. She will be.'

'Always,' he agreed.

'Yes.' Her smile widened; her mouth quivered, with what emotion he could not name. She leaned into him, sighing contentedly. 'Jasmine will be very loved.'

Jasmine.

He awoke with a start, the name on his lips like a prayer, or a blessing. Jasmine. Beside him, Anna made a small sound of surprise and tensed. Immediately Jarred stilled, and felt his wife relax once more into sleep.

The image swam in his mind again, of Anna's swollen belly and the strange feel of their child's feet kicking out from within. By fate, how long ago that had been! He could scarcely imagine such happiness now.

Jasmine. He could almost see her in his mind's eye, perching on one of the wide boughs in First Wood. Her green eyes blinked up at him, sparkling with excitement; in her hands was clutched the scrap of paper he had taken with him from Del on that fateful night seven years before. By fate, he missed her! It was hard to believe that he would never see her again, would never hold her or play with her in the treetops.

What does it mean, papa?

It is so pretty!

The memory filled him, and he smiled. Black hair glinting brown under a setting sun…

By the Belt, let her be safe!

In that moment, as the peace filled him, he could not help but think that she would be. Somehow, his daughter had survived, and would keep on surviving. After all, as Anna had said, she was a born survivor. They had taught her everything they knew. She would use those skills to survive, and she would live. She had to.

Still smiling, he closed his eyes, and let himself fall back into sleep.

oOo

The sun set in a blaze of brilliant light, streaked with shades of amber and gold, striking into the hearts of the captives sitting below it. None could tear their eyes away. There would be no sunset in the Shadowlands—they should make the most of this pleasure while it lasted. Even Jenara was entranced by it, lifting her head from her knees to gaze at the ever-darkening sky.

It was, Anna thought, as if it were farewelling them all, giving them one last piece of beauty to remember before the coming of the darkness. The thought brought tears into her eyes, however much she tried to blink them away. To think, that this would be the last sunset she would ever experience, the final spot of splendour she would ever see!

It was almost unbelievable. Just a few months ago, she had been safe in the Forests of Silence, with her family together and peace and contentment in her heart. A few months ago she had sat beside Jarred in the treetops of First Wood, watching this very sunset, with her head resting on his shoulder and his hand covering her own. They had said nothing; there had been nothing to say. They simply watched, the tranquillity of it all settling deep into their bones.

Anna had always loved dusk. It was a beautiful time, mystical and filled with shadows and light. Sunrise had often compelled her to sing with the joy of it, but dusk muted her with its wonder. It caused her to reflect, to look deep within herself and see sights she had never expected to see before. Trees became dark smudges against the horizon, melding together like a shadow painting; the clouds and sky suddenly blazed with a mixture of gold and orange colours tinted with pink. There was nothing else like it. She drank in the view, memorising every detail, storing as much as possible of it in her mind to bolster her in the days and weeks to come.

Beside her, she felt Jarred squeeze her hand gently.

'It is beautiful,' he said softly, his mouth close to her ear.

'Yes,' she whispered. 'It is.'

So beautiful. It was hard to believe that she would never see anything like it again.

oOo

Later, in the darkness of the night, they lay close together, eyes wide open and minds filled with thoughts of the future. At dawn, they would be marching into the Shadowlands, leaving Deltora behind them forever. It was a terrifying thought to behold.

Somehow, they fell into slumber. Jarred did not know when. When he next awoke, the world was still in darkness. The other captives in the party were still asleep, gathering as much strength as they could before they entered a place where they would have little chance for rest. He knew that he should do the same, but his muscles were tense, his mind in turmoil. He had barely managed to fall into sleep hours earlier, shaking and afraid; it was folly to think he could rest now. There was too much on his mind.

He felt a hand squeeze his, and thought: So. Anna is awake as well. Like him, she found it hard to sleep, thinking of what awaited them that day.

He turned to her, desperately seeking her face in the dim moonlight, as if she could erase the fear he felt lodged deep in his heart. She leaned toward him in the darkness, sighing softly, resting her head against his shoulder. Her eyes, from what he could see, were wide—from what, he could not tell. There was a trace of terror in them which nearly broke his heart.

'When the time comes, I will be there,' she said. 'I will never leave you alone.'

He closed his eyes as she caressed the side of his face. 'You cannot say that. What if you die first, and I am left alive? You could not be there then.' He hated himself for saying it, for reminding Anna of her own likely painful death, but he could not help himself. He was afraid. He did not want to be alone, and knew that it was inevitable, in the near future, that he would be. Whether it was in death or in life, he would be separated from Anna, until the day finally came that he (or Anna) was killed as well.

'Then I will be there in spirit,' she said steadily. 'As you will be there in spirit if you die before I do.'

She was right; she was always right. Neither of them could bear to leave the other alone, even if one remained in the world of the living. And he knew that he especially could not bear to leave Anna to face her end alone, whether he was already dead or not at the time. It would be completely beyond him.

'I am sorry,' he whispered. For everything that had happened. For all of his choices, which completely changed their lives and led to this final fate for them. For leaving Jasmine alone in the Forests, afraid and lonely and possibly dead.

'There is nothing to forgive,' Anna said gently. 'It is not your fault.'

'It is. This would never have happened if we had not taken their place, if we had not settled in the Forests of Silence. Those ideas were mine.'

'But it does not matter now, does it?' Anna's voice was tender.

He swallowed hard, and shook his head. 'No.' She was right; it did not matter now. What was done was done. He only wished that they could have chosen differently, so that they would not be where they were now.

'No,' he said quietly. 'I suppose that it does not.'

They lay in silence for a few moments, lost in their own thoughts. Then Jarred found himself speaking again. 'I… I do wonder about them. Whether they are safe.'

'I wonder, as well,' Anna said softly. 'I hope they are safe, they and our Jasmine. If they live on, then this must be worth it.'

Was it worth it, truly, if in the end he and Anna died? He paused. Yes. Yes, it was. Anna was right. As long as Endon, Sharn, the heir and Jasmine were safe, then their sacrifice was worth it. He could not think otherwise.

Looking at Anna, he saw that she felt the same way.

oOo

Dawn came too soon. Anna awoke in Jarred's arms, her head against his chest, and the steady beat of his heart in her ear. With her other ear she could hear the Grey Guards rousing from their slumber, grumbling and ill-tempered, and the sounds of the other captives stirring into wakefulness as the sky began to lighten to its customary grey.

She felt Jarred stir beside her, and met his dark eyes with her green ones. Her heart ached at the agony and fear in his gaze, agony and fear which mirrored her own. Why must it be this way? Why must fate be so cruel? He had not deserved any of this. None of them had. And yet, fate had placed them on this path, had torn apart their family and left Jasmine alone in First Wood without parents to guide and care for her. Fate only knew if she was still alive after so many weeks. She was not even sure if she wanted to know her daughter's fate. It was entirely possible that Jasmine was dead, and that was something Anna could not bring herself to accept.

Her emotions must have shown on her face, for Jarred reached to touch her cheek, and said softly, 'She will live, Anna. She must. Did you not tell me so, all those weeks ago?'

She nodded, the tightness building in her throat preventing her from speaking. How could she forget? Yet, so much could go wrong for a young girl in a dangerous forest, a forest which had haunted Anna's dreams since her early childhood. The mere thought of it was enough to make her close her eyes in terror.

'Anna,' and she felt Jarred squeeze her hand tightly. 'Anna, I know it hurts; it hurts me as well. But she will survive, she must survive. I cannot think otherwise, now.' He swallowed hard. 'We will need all of our strength to endure what is to come, and Anna, I do not think that we—that I—could survive in the Shadowlands and bear not only the pain of our fate, but Jasmine's as well. Do not ask me to do that, Anna.'

It was a near-plea, coming from the heart, and her breath shuddered to hear it. So much vulnerability, so much anguish. Too much. It shredded what was left of her battered heart, as did the fear in his eyes and the paleness of his face.

'Oh, Jarred.' Gently she stroked his cheek, brushing away the tears as they ran trails across his face. She could feel the tears sliding down her own cheeks, but did nothing to stop them. She did not think she could have. 'Oh, Jarred.' And then she was shaking, shaking, the world blurring before her eyes. Within a breath, Jarred drew her close to him, holding her with equally shaking arms, trying to soothe her despite the deep-laid terror which was surely consuming his own heart.

'Anna, Anna,' he murmured into her hair, as she trembled with the force of her fear. 'Anna, it will be all right. It must be.'

She shuddered once more, and looked up at him. 'Oh, Jarred, I do hope so,' she whispered. 'Because I do not know what I will do if it is not.'

The Grey Guards could be heard now shouting, making ready to break up camp for the last time. Other captives had begun to rise, groaning and stretching, as quickly as they possibly could to avoid the brutal snap of the Grey Guards' whips. Anna felt her heart quail within her at the sight. What she and Jarred had been dreading for so long had come at last. It was time to enter the Shadowlands. By fate, how she wished it was not!

She felt her gaze lock with Jarred's, and bit her lip to stop the tears from flowing. Tears would not do either of them good now. She felt so drained, like a part of her had been sucked away—and perhaps it had been. It did not matter now, in any case. She saw Jarred swallow hard, fighting back his own grief and fear, and felt her own throat tighten once more with all the emotions she could not find words to express. Yet, they must be, she knew, for if they were to be separated, if fate were so cruel, these were the last words they would ever speak to one another. As frightening as the thought was, she knew that she must do it, to give something to him to help him endure what was to come.

Before she could open her mouth, Jarred spoke. 'I love you.' Just those three words. They almost broke her inside, so laced they were with pain, regret, grief and fear. And love. Everything he could never say aloud.

'I love you, too,' she choked out. 'I always will.'

There did not seem to be anything else left to say. All the thoughts she had wanted to voice had fled her mind, leaving only blankness in their place, and a numbness that soothed. All she could think, now, was that she did love him so, and would lose him very soon, whether they were separated or not. What would she ever do without him? She did not know, did not want to know. But she knew that she would discover the answer to that question, someday. She could only hope that 'someday' was a long time coming.

She acted mindlessly, without almost any thoughts at all. The only thought in her mind was that of need, and love. She held his head with both of her hands, and pressed her lips against his. She felt him respond, his lips welding into hers like that of a drowning man. Desire surged through her, brought on by grief and a terrible need and a fear that had settled deep into her bones, not the fear of the Shadowlands, but the fear of being without him. They kissed and kissed and she prayed that they could never stop, while at the same time recognising that they should.

She did not know how long it was (not as long as it seemed, she was sure) until Jarred pulled away. He gazed at her, and she could see in his eyes all that he could not bear to say to her. That he loved her more than life itself, and was deathly afraid of what would become of her, that he would be left without her, to mourn her or wait for her, and he did not think he could endure that. The thought of being forcibly parted from her was even more unbearable, as he would be left alone and with no knowledge of her final fate. Which was the better alternative—to endure knowing all or having no clue as to how the other had died? She did not know, and did not think that Jarred knew either.

She said nothing, but laid a hand on his cheek and buried her head in his chest, letting her body sag against his for the few moments they had left together. She felt Jarred's arms slowly tighten around her, drawing her as close as possible to him, before reluctantly loosening his hold. There was no point, they both knew, in delaying the inevitable. Without a word, he stood, pulling her to her own feet as he did so.

It was time, at last, to enter the Shadowlands.

oOo

It took them the better part of the day to march from the base of Dread Mountain to the Shadowlands border. It would likely have taken them longer, Anna thought, but for the Grey Guards' continual flick of their whips, hurrying them along. There was something almost manic to their movements now, as if they were desperate to finally return to their master's stronghold and leave this unwholesome duty behind them.

For the entirety of the journey, she felt Jarred close by her side, and took comfort in his presence. Whatever fate would befall them, at least they were together now. And Jasmine was not with them. The Guards had not found her, on the day they entered First Wood and captured both herself and Jarred. She was safe. That, she thought, was the most important thing to remember and give thanks for.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jenara, the Jalis girl she had befriended and come to care for, walking steadily ahead on the narrow path, her head bowed, refusing to look any person in the eye. Anna's heart went out to her; she longed to reach out, say something, but knew that it would only be met with resistance by the girl and angry reprisal by the Guards. It was unfair, and cruel, that Jenara, who had reminded her so much of her own daughter, should meet this fate. Alone, friendless, without family, she would be slaughtered in the Arena, for the entertainment of the crowds. It sickened Anna to think of it. It could have been Jasmine in her place. Had events turned out differently, it would have been. But, she knew, there was nothing to be done about any of it. It still hurt, however. It would likely always hurt. She did not have to look at Jarred to know that he felt the same.

When the darkness of the Shadowlands finally came into sight, she gazed at it, dry-mouthed and ice-cold, and knew in her heart of hearts that she would die there. Someday, somehow, she would meet her end in a brutal, agonising fashion, alone. She did not know how she knew—only that she did. And it chilled her, terrified her, even, to think of it, to think of dying so horribly. Not even the thought of being at the mercy of the Shadow Lord frightened her as much as that did, in that moment.

Dimly, she felt Jarred gently squeeze her hand in his, but could not bring herself to look at him. Could not tear her eyes away from that terrible, forbidding mass before her that they were moving closer and closer toward. Do not think about it, do not think… but how could she not stare at it and imagine the horrors that awaited her and Jarred?

In the back of her mind, she realised that she was now frozen in the pathway, trembling violently and quite unable to stop.

Fate be merciful, she prayed desperately, and forced her numb feet to walk on before the Guards could strike at her for her slowness. Let us be together until the end. That is surely mercy enough.

They crossed the Shadowlands border, and as the remnants of her homeland faded away her heart ached with loss. She would die in that terrible dark land, without ever seeing the beauty of Deltora again. She would never see Jasmine again. She clutched Jarred's hand as if it could shield her from that terrifying thought.

Please fate, let it be all right!

And she gripped Jarred's hand tightly, refusing to let go even as they halted and the Guards began to separate the captives into three groups, to be led to different cells. She kept hold of his hand even as she felt the searing flicks of the whips at her legs and felt the sticky wetness of her own blood.

At last, they were thrown into a small grey cell which hardly seemed large enough to fit all the slaves that were allotted to it. Still holding onto each other, they stumbled and collapsed into a corner of the room, unable to stand any longer. Jarred started, as if waking from a dream. He looked at her, and his eyes held a naked, almost agonizing relief which brought tears to Anna's eyes.

She felt herself shake, and could not stop. He held her close to him and she could feel his body trembling against hers even as he tried to soothe her own emotional and physical pain.

'Jarred,' she whispered, and her voice broke with the effort of even speaking. 'Oh, Jarred.'

He looked at her with his heart in his eyes, and then she was weeping, rocking, shaking violently and unable to stop for the all-consuming ache of grief in her heart. What would become of them, trapped in this hell and at the mercy of monsters? What would become of Jarred?

'Anna, Anna,' and she heard Jarred's voice, hoarse with exhaustion, in her ear. 'Anna, it will be all right. It must be.'

'How can you know that?' she whispered. 'How?'

He looked away. 'I do not. But I cannot think otherwise and not lose all hope. And at least we are together, for now.'

She stilled, and met his burning eyes with her teary gaze. He was right. They were together, as they had both desperately hoped for. She was not to endure this hell alone. It was something to give thanks for. But she had also condemned them both to watch as they each suffered torment after torment at the hands of their captors. She had condemned herself to watch Jarred be dragged away to die in the Shadow Arena at the hands of a Vraal.

But somehow, none of that mattered, not when she looked at Jarred and imagined the desolation she would have felt at being separated from him and knowing that he was suffering somewhere and unable to comfort him. That, she thought, would have been a worse fate than the one they now faced.

'I love you,' she whispered.

He said nothing, but she felt his arms tighten around her.

'Sleep, dear heart,' he said at last. 'You will need all of your strength for the time ahead.'

She wanted to tell him to sleep as well, for he looked as if he needed it more than she did and did not seem to have any intention of falling into slumber anytime soon. But her mind was too hazy, and she could not find the will to shape her numb lips.

She rested her head on Jarred's shoulder, and waited for the darkness to descend.


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

Anna awoke to darkness.

Curled in Jarred's arms, she fought back a shiver. Even after so many months imprisoned, the darkness still terrified her. Unlike the typical darkness of the night, it was filled with malice and carried the stench of despair. It was dark, so dark. Pitch black. It felt as if she was suffocating, though she knew she could not possibly be. Her heart raced; she pressed a hand to her mouth, to keep down the cry that she could feel rising up her throat. It was the way of the air, to cause such a reaction. It did not mean that what she felt was reality.

It was not as severe as it was outside, where harsh winds buffeted and blew. She only knew because Jarred had told her. Inside it was as tranquil as the slightest breeze on a pond, but outside it tore and whipped at one until it threatened to consume one's spirit completely. Despite this, she felt it slowly eating away at her mind, embedding thoughts she could barely stand to think of. Jasmine's small, torn body lying in a pool of blood in First Wood, her eyes gazing up at the forest canopy with the blankness that usually accompanied death. Jasmine, screaming, sobbing as a monstrous beast lunged at her, sharp teeth ripping into her flesh. Jasmine, alone and afraid. And Jarred, trapped in the Arena, fighting for his life against a reptilian monster with slits for eyes, long claws and razor-sharp teeth. A monster which would tear the life out of his body. A part of her desperately prayed she would be dead long before it happened, but a larger part of her knew that it was a selfish thought to have, and pointless anyway—dead or alive, she would not leave him alone when that day came at last. No matter how much it hurt, she would be there. There was no question of it.

Grey Guards could be heard in the corridor, marching and keeping watch over their master's prisoners, grumbling as they did so. They considered it a waste of their time, and a source of constant boredom, to guard hundreds of slaves who were weak and good for nothing anyway in their eyes. Why could they not be more involved in their lord's plans, instead of being reduced to mere guard duty? Surely they were more deserving of it than those slippery Ols who were always monopolising the master's attention… Ols who never bothered to hide their arrogance and bloated egos when speaking to them of the Shadow Lord and his orders. Stupid, mischievous creatures! Stupid, useless ticks! Even now, she could hear their cruel words, words which made her want to hammer her head on the stone cold floor at her feet.

Beside her, Jarred stirred in his sleep. Slowly she turned to him, reluctant to disturb his much-needed rest, but knowing that she must. Dawn was fast approaching, and the Grey Guards with it. The Guards came each day, at the exact same time, to collect slaves for the Shadow Arena. Occasionally they even chose some for hard labour, though that was only if the work outstripped the number of worker slaves available. It was best to be awake and prepared for what could happen.

'Jarred?' She touched his shoulder, willing him to wake up. 'Jarred, they are coming. You must wake up!'

He must have heard the fear in her voice, the near-hysteria, for his eyes snapped open immediately. Anna's heart ached unbearably at seeing the pain and exhaustion in them.

He ran gentle fingers through her hair, which was now streaked with grey. It pained her to know it, to know that part of her was tarnished so much. She had lamented it once, but he had just assured her that to him she would always be beautiful, and that it did not matter if her hair was greying. But somehow it did matter. The Shadow Lord had taken so much from her already—her daughter, her home, her peace-of-mind. Must she suffer this loss as well, however minor it might be in the grand scheme of things?

'It is still beautiful, Anna,' Jarred said softly. She felt tears burn in her eyes at the words, and hurriedly blinked them away.

It had been three months since they had entered this small grey cell in the Shadowlands. Three months, and they had been reduced to tired, gaunt versions of themselves. With only one large bowl of food and water allowed each day, to be shared among the prisoners, they were kept on the edge of starvation, though not so starved that they could not function. Their bodies had adjusted to the lack of food, but it still weakened them, especially if they were forced to go without. Perhaps it was what the Shadow Lord wanted, to prevent the slaves from acting up, or perhaps it was just due to the cruelty of the bored Grey Guards. Whatever the reason, it was hard to bear, especially whenever Jarred felt it needful to give her his rations, fearing for her as he did. Though she would protest, she could never dissuade him, though it shamed her to see him starve himself for her sake. Still, the one time he had been taken for manual labour, she gave him her own rations and went without.

'We—we must be brave…' she said, and felt her voice tremble as she did so. How could anyone be brave when facing death?

Jarred said nothing, but Anna could see from the look on his face that his thoughts were in line with hers.

The Guards entered the cell. She gripped Jarred's hand tightly, and felt him return the pressure.

'I do love you, Jarred,' she whispered.

'I love you, too,' he whispered back.

She closed her eyes, and waited. Surely… surely they would pass them by. Surely they would not choose Jarred! Silently she prayed, with all her heart and soul. Please fate, let me not lose him!

Hands grabbed at her. Hard hands, cruel hands. She heard Jarred swallow back a hoarse cry. She opened her eyes, and felt her heart freeze within her. Of all things she had expected, it was not this. She had been so sure that Jarred would be chosen first! It was Jarred, after all, who was the survivor. Not her. She was only a healer with a gentle nature, completely unsuitable to be thrown into a gladiator's arena to fight to the death. Never in all the years she had lived had she expected them to choose her before Jarred.

They roughly hauled her to her feet; almost numb with shock, she did not resist. Black dots danced in her vision, and she felt herself sway on her feet. Fate be merciful, she prayed desperately. Be merciful to us all. If she were to die, then so be it. But please fate, let it be quick!

They dragged her toward the door, and as they did so, she felt compelled to look back, one last time. It was the cruellest thing, to see Jarred's face. It was drained of colour, almost bone-white. The look in his eyes was that of a burning man, and it tore her to pieces to see it. If she could make it better, give him words of comfort—but she could not, and it would be no good in any case. Nothing could make the pain easier to bear. She could only hope that whatever happened, fate would be merciful to both of them.

They left the cell, and she prayed with all her heart that she could have courage. That she could face her own death with dignity. That Jasmine could survive in the Forests and grow into a young woman whose merit was beyond reckoning, and live on in a happier and free Deltora. If the people dear to her heart were safe and at peace, then she knew her own spirit could be at peace when she died.

She closed her eyes once more, and tried to be brave.


End file.
